


Window Bird

by queenofkadara



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofkadara/pseuds/queenofkadara
Summary: Avad watches hawks as they drift through the Sundom’s sky. He marvels at their freedom and their flight, and he wonders: what must it be like to have wings?It’s a thing he will never know. His feet are firmly rooted in Meridian’s majestic stones. But the callused hands of a redheaded Nora traveller will lift his heart straight into the deep blue sky.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VidalsQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidalsQueen/gifts).



> A/N: I am so happy to get the honour of writing this for the lovely VidalsQueen. You're truly a queen of this fandom, a wonderful friend and a lovely reader/reviewer, and writing this fic for you is the best possible excuse to add more Avaloy to the world.

Blanket of cloud, the sky hovering  
Winter is long and forgiving  
You melt your doubt and fall into me  
I find your mouth and try to hold it

You bring your love, you know it's homeless  
But we'll both rise, we're falling  
The summer arrives, the garden's alive  
With the mud and the mortar, we're gonna save it

[”Window Bird” by Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7SBC9w_0G4o)  
************

When Avad was young, the children at the palace used to play a game: if you could be a machine, which one would you be?

Avad would listen while the others gave their answers: Sawtooth, Behemoth, Snapmaw - the deadlier and more dangerous, the better. Kadaman always picked a Sawtooth, which Avad thought was funny; his older brother always seemed more of a Scrapper than a Sawtooth to him. 

One day, while playing this popular game, Avad interrupted the usual debate about metal teeth and claws and zapping powers. “What about animals?” he said. His eyes were on the sky, following the path of a faraway hawk as it sought its prey. 

The other children looked at him, and Kadaman elbowed him. “Animals are boring, little brother,” he said. “Nobody wants to be an animal. A machine could rip apart any animal with a single claw!”

“Not if the animal can fly,” Avad reasoned.

Their cousin Jarad snorted loudly. “Machines can fly too, bolts-for-brains,” he retorted. “If you want to fly, be a Glinthawk!”

“No, a Stormbird,” Kadaman argued. “Stormbirds are bigger and more powerful.”

The other children fell back into their debate about the virtues of the various machines, and Avad sighed. He lifted his eyes back to the sky and spotted the lone hawk just in time to see it curve gracefully through the air and fly away to the east. 

He watched the predatory bird until it became a speck, then disappeared from sight altogether. He returned his gaze to the other children, but his attention remained in the sky.

Stormbirds were certainly bigger than hawks. But Avad wasn’t sure that size was the most important thing. He’d noticed something strange about Stormbirds during his rare supervised outings: as powerful as their metal wings were, they only flew in circles. 

Hawks didn’t have to fly in circles. They could go wherever they wanted. And to Avad’s young eyes, that freedom seemed far more desirable than size. 

As Avad and Kadaman grew older, the childish game fell out of favour. But sometimes, during the morning sun salutations or his history lessons or his sword drills, Avad would think about hawks. He would think about the way they floated gracefully on the breeze, and he would imagine the sudden breathless drop as they dove for their prey, and he would remember their confident departure as they disappeared into the distance.

Years went by, and reports about increasingly vicious machines began flooding the palace. A monstrous new machine called a Thunderjaw destroyed the secluded village of Morning Light, and Jiran’s strict-but-fair style of rulership began to twist into something harsh and uncompromising. Kadaman’s customary easy grin faded into a worried frown, and Avad found himself thinking about hawks every day. On the rare occasions that he spotted a lone hawk wheeling through the sky, he would wistfully wonder what it would be like to fly so free and untroubled. 

More time passed. The situation in the Sundom became more dire, and Jiran’s stern lectures devolved into angry rants. Kadaman and Jiran butted heads over the alarmingly absurd things that Jiran would say, and it was left to Avad to try and keep the peace. Sometimes Jiran would ask Avad if Kadaman was trying to unseat him, and Avad would try his best to soothe his father’s constant fears. 

“He is insane, Avad,” Ersa told him on the night that she left. “I know you want to reason with him, but a man like that can’t be reasoned with.”

“I have to try,” Avad whispered. He squeezed her hands, then kissed her knuckles on impulse. “Go. Quickly. May the…” He trailed off before finishing the Sun faith’s greeting that usually fell automatically from his lips. He swallowed hard, then said instead, “May you walk safe and free.” 

He watched as Ersa slipped away into the dark. She might be sneaking silently through the dank and dirty sewers, but the fluttering corner of her disappearing cloak made him think of a hawk’s departing tailfeathers. 

Then one day, after a particularly strident argument between the Kadaman and the King, Kadaman was executed. 

On that day, the sands that had been shifting beneath Avad’s feet for years suddenly fell away. Kadaman was dead, and Itamen needed to be protected, and Avad was the only one left who could stop his father’s madness from spreading. 

That was the day that Avad stopped thinking about hawks. 

There was no place in his life for frivolous and self-centered hopes of freedom. There was no space in his mind for foolish wishes of peaceful resolution. Avad fled Meridian that same night with his most trusted allies and friends, and it didn’t even occur to him to think about the breathless flight of a hawk.

Many months later, after Avad killed his father and assumed the throne, he began to think about hawks again, but in a very different way than he had before. The thoughts of his youth were tinged with wistfulness, a certain selfish desire to be a little more free. But Avad was no longer a naive adolescent. He knew his place and his duty, and he knew he could never be a hawk.

Avad was the Sun-King, and kings had to be grounded. Every person in the Sundom was a life he was responsible for, a root that kept him tied to the heart of the Sundom. And if Avad knew anything about hawks, it was that they didn’t have roots. 

Deep in his logical heart, behind the romantic wrappings that Ersa gently teased him for, Avad knew the truth: flying free and unencumbered had never been a choice for him. Avad was not a bird, and he never would be. If anything, he was a tree: a central pillar that supported myriad lives both big and small, firmly and deeply rooted in the ground. 

It took a long time for the bittersweet taste of this truth to fade away, but eventually the loss became a small and manageable ache, like ocean waves smoothing the sharpest edges from a shard of glass. And eventually, with time, Avad became comfortable with the idea of himself as a tree.

Years later, under terrible circumstances, Avad would meet a woman who truly epitomized the spirit of a hawk. 

She flew into his life with the suddenness of a hawk dropping on its prey. Her mind was as sharp as her gaze, and the flickering of her flame-red hair was like the russet tips of a hawk’s tail.

It wasn’t until Avad met this fearless Nora traveller that he realized something he’d never thought about before: hawks needed a place to rest. Their journeys spanned many lands, and they made discoveries that no machine or ground-bound beast could ever make. But hawks needed a roost to call their home, whether for a season or just for a day. 

It wasn’t until Avad met Aloy that he recognized the value of being an aerie.


	2. Spread Your Wings

Aloy’s appearances at the palace were always a surprise. 

It was a refreshing change for Avad. The Sun-King’s days tended to follow a rather regimented schedule: rising at dawn, coffee and the morning report with Marad, sun salutations at the temple three days a week, and holding court until midday. Avad always insisted on having a midday meal alone before launching into his afternoons filled with meetings and negotiations. Although the content and the company at the afternoon meetings certainly varied, the truth remained that his days followed a clear schedule that rarely changed from one day to the next. 

When Aloy visited Meridian, the busy routine of his days came to a halt. Or at least that’s how it felt to Avad. 

“Your Radiance, Aloy is here to speak with you.”

Avad sat up straighter on his throne. It had been over a month since Aloy had left Meridian after defeating Dervahl, and Avad had often wondered what she’d been up to in the intervening time. All he knew was that she was hunting the killers who had butchered her people, and that she’d selflessly put her own goals aside to help the Sundom. 

He nodded graciously at Marad and hoped the eagerness wasn’t showing too obviously on his face. “Please, invite her to approach,” he said. He surreptitiously smoothed a stray wrinkle from his stole as his advisor turned away. 

A few minutes later, Marad returned with the redheaded huntress at his side, and Avad rose from his seat with a smile. “Aloy,” he said warmly. “Welcome back to Meridian. It is good to see you again.” 

She nodded a brief greeting. “I have information I wanted to share,” she said briskly. “Something that may help keep your people safe.” 

Avad raised his eyebrows. The wiggle of excitement he’d felt upon seeing her again was quickly diluted by concern. “Of course,” he said. He gently ushered her and Marad to come closer. “Please, speak freely. What did you have to share?”

She folded her arms. “I’ve come from the north. Well, the northwest edges of your kingdom, I think. A place called Maker’s End?”

He frowned. “Ah, yes. An abandoned place of the Old Ones, but very difficult to explore. I believe Erend told me the Oseram stripped the place of anything of use a long time ago.” He looked askance at Marad, and his advisor nodded.

Aloy twisted her lips ruefully. “It’s not abandoned anymore. Well, it wasn’t before I got there, at least. Eclipse operatives were there, and they were trying to raise an ancient machine of the Old Ones called a Deathbringer.”

Avad listened with increasing worry as she went on. “It’s a… a very large machine, as large as one of your houses here in Meridian. It’s got six legs and it’s covered with canons like the ones on Thunderjaws. It was only semi-functional - not able to move. But if the Eclipse succeed at making one fully operational, I worry that they’ll match their name.” She shifted her weight from one hip to the other and dropped her arms to her sides. “I thought you should know. I figured Erend and his men could work things out to increase the protection in Meridian, and the outer villages as well.” She shrugged.

“Yes,” Avad said firmly. He turned to Marad. “Tell Erend; we will inform the generals when we have more information. We should send some agents to Maker’s End to collect intelligence as soon as possible.”

Marad nodded briskly and departed, and Avad turned back to the Nora huntress. “Aloy, this is extremely pertinent information. Thank you for taking the time - I know you must be very busy…” 

She nodded and took a step away. Already her attention seemed elsewhere, her eyebrows creasing into a little frown as she looked over the balcony at the sprawl of the jungle.

Avad took a small step toward her. “Will you be staying in Meridian for long?” he asked.

She shifted her eyes back to him, and Avad watched curiously as her expression became wary. “No,” she said. “I have a few small errands to run, then I’ll be moving on.” 

Avad nodded and ignored the heavy feeling in his belly. “I see,” he said. “Please know we would be honoured to host you in the palace if ever you have a need. There will always be a guest room available for you here.”

“Thanks, but that’s all right,” Aloy said. “I’m not really a ‘palace’ kind of woman.” 

Her lips curled in a little smile, and Avad blinked at her, tongue-tied by the rare sight of her sense of humour. A moment later, she turned on her heel and began to walk away. “Take care,” she said. 

Avad dumbly watched her departing back for a moment, then finally found his wits and his manners. “Walk in the Light, Aloy,” he called. 

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and his stomach jolted pleasantly at the tiny smile that crinkled the corner of her eyes. Avad watched the rippling wave of her hair until she was almost out of sight. 

He sighed, then slowly settled on his throne again. It was hard for him to know if he was making a royal ass of himself or not when Aloy was around. He was still grateful for how tactfully she’d deflected his inadvertent proposition, and he was equally grateful for how easily she now acted as though the awkward moment had never occurred. He’d initially thought his juvenile infatuation with Aloy was a reflection of his love for Ersa, exactly as Aloy had suggested, but the passing of time didn’t seem to have diminished the butterflies in his belly when the Nora huntress was around.

As often happened since Ersa had passed away, he heard her earthy chuckle in his mind, and he could imagine exactly what she’d say if she was here. “You’re not making a royal ass of yourself, Avad. Just a regular ass.”

He smiled to himself at the thought, then sighed again. _It’s too soon to feel this way again,_ he thought to imaginary-Ersa. _I still talk to you every day in my mind. I still wish I could hear your voice. That means…_ He stalled in his imaginary conversation with the Oseram warrior. What _did_ that mean, exactly? 

Imaginary-Ersa snorted. She’d been a practical person; like many Oseram women, she wasn’t overly sentimental, and Avad knew how she would respond. “So you miss me. That’s not surprising,” she would say. “You talked to Kadaman in your head for months after he died, too.”

_This is different,_ Avad thought. _Isn’t it?_

The mental image of the late Oseram warrior shrugged. “Not really. You’ll probably think about me for the rest of your life, Avad. Doesn’t mean you can’t come to care for someone new.” 

Avad drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne as he thought it over. A few minutes later, Marad’s calm voice penetrated his thoughts. “Erend will return to the palace right after your midday meal, Your Luminance. I have two spies who will be ready to depart for Maker’s End by tomorrow morning. Do you wish to cancel the morning court?”

Avad shook his head. “No,” he said. “They’ve waited for long enough. It would be unkind to cancel. Let them come.” 

Marad nodded, then eyed Avad speculatively for a moment. “Aloy has taken her leave?”

Avad shot his advisor a small smile. The question was a mere formality; he was certain that Marad was more informed about Aloy’s whereabouts than he was. “Yes,” he answered nonetheless. “It seems that her travels will take her far from Meridian again.”

Marad nodded in agreement. “I will tell the palace runners to resume the morning court,” he said.

Avad smiled his thanks as the wily older man left. He straightened his posture and waited patiently until a disgruntled-looking noblewoman strode toward the throne, and he wondered if Aloy’s travels would bring her back to Meridian again anytime soon.

**********************

To his great surprise, Aloy came back a mere three days later. 

Avad was finishing his usual solitary lunch when a messenger arrived. “Your Radiance, Aloy of the Nora is here. She-”

“Aloy is here?” Avad interrupted. He couldn’t decide whether the sudden writhing in his chest was anticipation or anxiety. He was always pleased to see her, but for her to be back in such a short period of time… Had something bad happened?

“Yes, Your Radiance,” the messenger said. He shuffled his feet nervously. “I’m sorry to interrupt - shall I ask her to wait?”

“No,” Avad said. “I was just finishing. Please bring her to the western receiving area in the outer court. I will be there in a moment.” He slowly rose from his chair, careful to maintain a calm appearance despite his rapid heart rate. 

The messenger swiftly left, and Avad pulled on his stole and his shoes before setting off at a decorous pace for the outer court of the palace.

Aloy was waiting for him, her arms folded and her forehead creased in a frown as she paced slowly around the receiving area. Despite his fresh kick of worry, Avad couldn't help but admire the grace of her movements as she moved restlessly back and forth.

She turned at his approach, and her face cleared somewhat. “Avad,” she said with a nod, and as usual, she launched into her business without preamble. “I thought of something that might help with the Glinthawk problems you’ve been having. I’ve noticed some people getting their hands on lures that they don’t know how to work.”

Avad nodded in resignation. “Dervahl’s remaining legacy, I’m afraid.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You know about the bootlegged lures, then?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Guards are combing through incoming goods to try and root out any further trade in lures. I wonder if they might be useful someday, in the hands of a well-trained hunter like yourself. But for now, I agree that they’re unsafe in the hands of the average citizen.” 

Aloy looked at him for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. Then she straightened and nodded her head. “Good,” she said. “That’s… that’s good. I’ll be going, then.” She moved away from the balcony. 

“Aloy, wait a moment,” Avad blurted. 

She stopped, but her eyebrows creased further into a frown, and this only reinforced Avad’s concern. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

She nodded briskly. “Yes. I’m glad you have the lure situation under control. Or nearly under control, I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “You seem… worried. Are you all right?” 

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

Avad looked at her warily, dismayed that his innocuous inquiry seemed to be making her withdraw. “I simply was wondering if there was any way I could be of help,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed even further. “You want to help me?” she asked slowly.

Avad eyed her with increasing alarm. Was he overstepping his bounds again by offering to help her? Well, it was too late now; he might as well continue. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I… it would be the least I could do, after everything you have done for us. I would be honoured to offer whatever assistance I can.”

She stared at him for another long, tense moment. Then suddenly she smirked. “That depends. You want to help me hunt three Sawtooths, two Ravagers and a Stalker?”

Now it was Avad’s turn to stare until it suddenly clicked. “The Lodge,” he said, and he smiled broadly at her. “You’re looking to join the Hunter’s Lodge?” He wholeheartedly approved of the idea. In Avad’s opinion, there was no finer hunter who deserved to join the Lodge’s ranks.

“I am,” she said. She folded her arms and settled her weight confidently on one hip. “Normally I wouldn’t do something this pointless, but…” She shook her head, and Avad watched as the corner of her lip curled with disgust. “There’s a certain someone in the Lodge who needs to be kicked down a peg,” she said.

“Ah. Yes,” Avad said. Ahsis’s haughty face drifted through his mind’s eye. “I have heard that there is some, um, discontent at the Lodge.” 

Aloy raised one eyebrow. “And you disagree with the complaints?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he replied. “But I’m not a member of the Hunter’s Lodge. I have no say in their governance, unfortunately.” 

Aloy folded her arms and gazed at him curiously. “The Sun-King doesn’t have the right to make decrees at the Hunter’s Lodge? From what I’d heard of your father, I thought…” 

He grimaced. “Historically, no. The affairs of the Hunter’s Lodge have been outside of royal jurisdiction, aside from necessary conscription during times of war. Especially in light of my father’s actions in the past, I am trying not to impose my… preferences on the way things are run there.” 

Aloy nodded slowly, and Avad thought he could detect a hint of approval in her usually-stern expression. Then she tilted her head. “Do _you_ like Ahsis?” she asked. 

Her bluntness was so refreshing. Before Avad could stop himself, he grinned at her. A hint of a smile curled her lips, and Avad forced himself not to laugh. He wrestled his face back into a kingly expression before replying. “Ahsis was the first hunter to defeat a Thunderjaw. An admirable achievement at the time.”

Aloy suddenly smiled. It was a full-lipped, brilliant smile, the first he had ever seen on her lovely face, and the brightness of it stole his breath for a moment. 

“At the time,” she repeated. “Tactful but true.” She chuckled quietly and shook her head, and Avad noticed with a twinge of pleasure that she didn’t look as tense as she had a few minutes ago.

She shot him one more half-smile. “Well. I should go. Those trophies aren’t going to hunt themselves,” she said.

“Of course,” Avad said, and he watched with a mix of contentment and wistfulness as she began to leave. 

Then, to his surprise, she turned back to face him. “I never did ask. Are you any good at hunting?”

Avad hesitated before replying, wishing he had a more impressive answer to give her. “Not particularly,” he admitted. “The largest machine I’ve destroyed on my own was a Scrapper. I once assisted with the destruction of a Snapmaw, however.” 

“Hm,” Aloy said. “Well, at least you know you’re not very good. The worst hunters are the ones who can’t see their own weaknesses.” 

Avad nodded in resignation. “That was one of the first lessons of hunting that I learned as a child. In any case, this is one area where I would certainly hinder you rather than helping.” 

“That’s all right,” she said. “I’m sure you have other talents.”

A spark of excitement lit his belly at her faintly suggestive words, and his eyes darted up to her face. Had she actually meant...?

As soon as he met her gaze, her cheeks flushed bright red, and her expression fell into a look of horror. Then her easy demeanour transformed back into the familiar stern Nora huntress. “I have to go,” she said brusquely, and she turned on her heel and ran off toward the bridge that would take her back to the city. 

Avad watched her go with a pounding heart. Had she actually been flirting, or was that accidental? Knowing Aloy and her no-nonsense manner, it certainly hadn’t been on purpose. But her face had turned so red… 

He turned toward the balcony and covered his mouth with one hand so the other palace inhabitants couldn’t see his goofy smile. He could practically hear Ersa’s snort in his ear. “Looks like you aren’t the only one making an ass of themselves,” Imaginary-Ersa said. 

He allowed himself a tiny chuckle at the thought. His chest was suffused with warmth from the unexpectedly friendly encounter. He had hoped to get to know Aloy better, and unless he was very mistaken, this seemed to be a promising start. 

A palace attendant approached and gave him a deferential bow. “Your Luminance, the Honourable Marad and the heads of the merchant families have gathered in the east conference room for your consideration.”

Avad nodded. “Thank you. I will be there shortly,” he said, and the messenger bowed once more before scurrying away.

Avad sighed quietly, then made his way back toward the palace interior. Before slipping back inside, a stray image flashed across his mind: Aloy’s brilliant and unexpected smile. 

He smiled to himself once more. He could feel his own cheeks warming at the memory. _A promising start, indeed,_ he thought. 

***********************

Almost three weeks later, Aloy appeared at the palace again. But this time, her arrival was under far less pleasant circumstances. 

It was the dead of night when Avad was roused by the sound of angry voices in the hall. He blearily cracked open his eyes, then frowned and propped himself up on one elbow as he recognized Erend’s voice. 

“... need to wake him up right now. He would want to know. He’ll be pissed if you wait until morning to tell him about this.”

A quieter, calmer voice replied. Avad strained to hear the words, but he couldn’t make them out. Then Erend’s loud voice spoke again. 

“Dammit, Marad, tell him now,” he snapped. “Trust me on this. He’ll want to know that Aloy’s been hurt.” 

_Aloy?_ A jolt of panic pulled Avad from his bed. He threw on his opulent silk dressing robe and strode through the main room of his private quarters, then threw open the door. “What has happened?” he demanded. His anxious gaze darted from Erend’s petulant scowl to Marad’s pursed-lipped visage. 

“See?” Erend said belligerently. “I told you he’d wanna know.”

Marad shot Erend a stern look before returning his gaze to Avad. “Aloy came to the palace half an hour ago,” he said. “Erend’s men helped her cross the bridge from the city. It seems she has been injured - nothing life-threatening,” he clarified hastily, likely in response to the horror that Avad was probably allowing to spill too freely across his face. 

“She’s unconscious,” Erend interjected. “And _he_ didn’t want to tell you until the morning.”

“She is in no imminent danger,” Marad said in a calm but firm voice, then returned his gaze to Avad. “Your personal healer is seeing to her as we speak.”

Avad forced himself to exhale. “Thank you,” he said. “I will see her now. Erend, if you will accompany me?” He nodded in reassurance to the two guards who customarily stood just outside of his private quarters. 

“She is asleep, Your Highness,” Marad said gently. 

“I understand,” Avad said, a bit more firmly. Then he nodded to Erend to lead the way.

The three men strode in silence down the hall, then around a corner and through the large carved wooden doors that led to the wing reserved for high-ranking guests. Erend slowed down toward the end of the hall, then knocked on the door of the last room.

A moment later, a servant cracked opened the door. Her eyes widened as they fell on Avad, and she hastily opened the door wider. “Your Radiance,” she whispered, and gave a deep curtsy. 

Avad gently gestured for the servant to rise. “Please, Tahli, that is not necessary,” he murmured. He ushered Marad and Erend into the room, then glanced toward the sleeping quarters of the large guest suite. 

His personal healer, Kalid, was leaning over a supine form in the bed. Avad spotted a slender pair of bare and filthy legs, and he dropped his eyes to the ground to preserve Aloy’s modesty. 

He swallowed hard. “Kalid,” he called softly. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the healer straightened at the sound of his voice, then returned his attention to Aloy for a moment longer before joining Avad and the others. 

“Your Highness,” he said with a brisk little bow. “The Nora huntress is stable. It seems that she took a fall; she bears many bruises and superficial cuts. I suspect a broken rib, perhaps two. Her palms look oddly scalded, as though from a Shellwalker attack.”

“Ridiculous,” Erend said, then lowered his voice at Marad’s stern glance. “She wouldn’t get injured by a Shellwalker,” the Vanguard Captain whispered. “She’s too good for that.” 

“I did not say a Shellwalker injured her,” the healer corrected gently. “The injury is simply reminiscent of that type of attack. From what I understand of our esteemed Nora guest, she is a very active woman. The rib fractures will mean that even breathing deeply will be uncomfortable for her. I expect a full recovery, but she should rest for at least two days.”

“Hah,” Erend muttered. “Good luck with that.”

Avad grimaced. “Unfortunately, I am inclined to agree with you.” He clasped Kalid’s hand firmly. “Thank you, as always,” he said. “Have you finished your treatment for now? Or do you need more time?”

“A few more minutes,” Kalid replied. “Then you can sit with her if you so desire. But please do not wake her.”

“Of course,” Avad said, and the healer returned to Aloy’s side. 

Marad cleared his throat gently. “Your Majesty, if I may make a suggestion?”

Avad nodded, and Marad folded his hands demurely before speaking. “Keeping some distance may be advisable. Kalid has confirmed that Aloy will heal fully in time. If it becomes widely known that the Sun-King sat a bedside vigil for a Nora huntress, there may be some... resentment.”

Avad frowned. He understood Marad’s point, but Erend scoffed. “Resentment? Everyone loves Aloy!” he exclaimed. “She saved both of our lives! Who’ll be mad that Avad is making sure she’s okay?” 

“I am not denying how much the Sundom owes her,” Marad said quietly. “But it may be detrimental if the more influential Carja families perceived a member of an outside tribe as receiving preferential treatment when there is no clear alliance with the Nora to be gained. It has been difficult enough keeping peaceful relations with the Oseram, even with Ersa’s and your full cooperation.” 

Erend groaned, then turned to Avad. “Look, I’ll personally keep guard for you, make sure no one interferes while you visit with Aloy. Would that make it better?” He raised his eyebrows at Marad. 

Marad gazed patiently at the burly Oseram, then slid his gaze back to Avad. “I will take my leave for tonight. But consider what I have said,” he murmured. “Aloy is an extremely valuable ally, and I hope this alliance will continue. But the needs of the Carja must come first.” 

Avad lifted one hand. “I understand what you are saying. But our people have a very poor history of taking what we have no right to take. We should count ourselves lucky that anyone was willing to help us at all.” He glanced over toward the bed. “The Carja will only grow by giving back to our allies,” he said softly. “There is no ‘us’ versus ‘them’, Marad. Not for me.” 

Marad bowed his head. “An admirable ideal, Your Radiance. I will leave you to your visit, then.” He nodded politely to Erend, then slipped silently out of the room. 

Erend wrinkled his nose and scratched the back of his head. “What a guy, huh?”

Avad shook his head. “Don’t scoff. His advice is invaluable. In this, as well as everything else.” He gently squeezed Erend’s shoulder. “I would be grateful for your offer to keep guard, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, of course,” Erend said, and he swiftly left the room. 

Avad look over at the bed again just as Kalid finished tidying away his healing kit. He smiled as Avad cautiously approached the bed. “She should sleep more comfortably now, Your Luminance. She may very well sleep through the day as well.”

He patted the healer’s shoulder in thanks. “You have my infinite gratitude, Kalid.”

Kalid shook his head. “I am happy to help. For now, I will take my leave, but I will send one of my assistants to watch over her if anything urgent should arise.”

Avad smiled and nodded, and the healer departed, leaving Avad alone with Aloy and Tahli, who was sitting quietly in the corner of the room. 

Avad shot the serving girl a small smile, then quietly lowered himself into the stool beside Aloy’s bed. Then, for the first time that night, he really looked at Aloy. 

Just as Kalid had said, she was fast asleep. Her peaceful face was mostly clean, but there was mud and a few twigs in the russet cloud of her hair. 

Avad fought off an urge to pick the twigs from her hair as he continued to study her. She was tucked in the blankets up to her chin, but Avad watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed slowly in her sleep. Then he realized how inappropriate it was for him to be looking at her chest at all. 

With a flash of shame, he dropped his eyes to his hands. He was sorry to admit it, but Marad’s counsel was not entirely wrong, particularly with regards to how the more petty Carja families would react if they knew he was here… and particularly because Marad’s subtle caution was correct. 

Avad had never directly told Marad about the depth of his ties with Ersa, but Avad was certain that Marad had known. And as always, the sharp advisor seemed to understand more about the Sun-King’s feelings for Aloy than he needed to be told.

Aloy was certainly a valuable ally, but that wasn’t really why Avad was here. 

Imaginary-Ersa twisted her lips ruefully. “You’d do the same for me,” she told him. 

_You’re right,_ he thought with a pang of melancholy. _And that is why I shouldn’t be here._

For once, the imaginary Oseram fighter didn’t have a response for him. 

He sat for a moment longer with his eyes on his folded hands. Then he slowly rose to his feet. “Tahli,” he said softly.

The serving girl sat up attentively, and Avad ushered her close. “I will be returning to my quarters. Please take my place.” 

Tahli nodded and followed his suggestion, and with one last wistful glance at Aloy’s sleeping face, he turned away and left the room. He made his way in silence down the hall, but his own regrets seemed to echo in his ears. 

Erend raised his eyebrows quizzically as Avad approached, but Avad only squeezed his arm with a reassuring smile. “Send your finest guards to watch over her,” he whispered. “You should rest.”

Erend shook his head and folded his arms. “Nah, I’m good,” he said. “I’ve got this.” 

Avad gazed steadily at the loyal Oseram. “I’m sorry, Erend, but we should both get our rest. You are the Vanguard Captain. You have duties to attend to in the morning, just as I do.” He sighed. “Send Ulkert and Helga. They will be more than enough security. I will have my private guards to keep watch until they arrive.”

Erend scowled until Avad lifted his chin. Then he sighed and dropped his eyes. “Ah, you’re right. Ersa would tell me to delegate, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Who am I kidding, she’d tell me I’m being a stubborn brat,” he said, and he shot Avad a little half-smile. “Never hurt either of us to follow her advice, did it?”

Avad smiled at his Oseram friend. “No, it didn’t,” he murmured. 

If only imaginary-Ersa’s advice to Avad was as simple as the advice she would give her brother.

**********************

Avad barely slept for the rest of the night. 

Words and faces floated through his half-dreaming mind. Erend and Marad… _the needs of the Carja must come first_... Ersa and Ahsis… _you’re not the only one making an ass of themselves_... His father and Kadaman… _More sacrifices are necessary, and if your damned brother can’t see that…_ And above them all, Aloy’s rare and brilliant smile that glittered like diamonds in an Old Ones’ midden heap.

He rolled out of bed before dawn feeling both hungover and wired, and Aloy’s wellbeing was the first thing on his mind. But he forced himself to listen to Marad’s counsel and to not head straight to the guest room where she was recuperating. Instead, he arranged for a messenger to advise him the moment that Aloy woke, and he headed to the training ring to practice with his blades for a while before his usual post-dawn meeting with Marad.

It wasn’t until late that evening that a messenger came to find him in his office where he was perusing a pile of trade agreements. “Your Radiance, Aloy of the Nora is awake,” she said.

He looked up at the messenger, instantly distracted from the paperwork on his desk. “That is excellent news,” he said. “Is she - has she - she is well?”

“Yes, Your Radiance,” the messenger confirmed. “I believe she’ll be ready to leave in the next-”

“ _Leave?_ ” Avad blurted, then he checked himself as the messenger twisted her hands together nervously. He took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said calmly. “Please let her know I would like to speak with her, if she can wait a short while.” 

The messenger nodded and hurried away, and Avad pretended to read the document on his desk for another minute before impatiently setting the parchment aside and rising to his feet. 

He walked to Aloy’s room with as much composure as he could muster and took a deep, calming breath before knocking. 

Tahli opened the door with a smile, then ducked back into the room. “His Luminance the Sun-King is here, my lady,” she called. 

Aloy’s reply was quiet, but Avad heard it nonetheless. “You don’t need to call me that, Tahli. It’s just ‘Aloy’.”

Avad smiled. _Straightforward as ever,_ he thought with a surge of fondness. “May I come in?” he asked.

“Yes,” Aloy called back, and Avad nodded appreciatively to Tahli as she slipped past him and exited the room. 

He looked over at Aloy, then stopped short as his heart leapt into his throat. She was bustling around the room collecting her weapons and cleaning them, but he noticed her every wince of pain like a needle to his gut. 

He also noticed that she was wearing Carja armour instead of her customary Nora garb. And as was always the case with Carja armour, her midriff was entirely on show. 

He guiltily tore his eyes away from the taut planes of her belly. “I heard you were planning to leave tonight, but I half-hoped I had misheard,” he said.

She didn’t stop her tidying as she replied. “I have a long ways to go. Besides, I never stay in the same place for two nights in a row.” She shot him a tiny smirk as she reached for her spear, then winced again. 

Avad took a few steps toward her. “Aloy, please. If you insist on leaving tonight, I must insist on helping you to make the departure more comfortable. It is the very least I can do.” 

She pursed her lips, then finally released a slow breath. “All right,” she said, then took a step away from the table and sank onto the bed. “I hope you know how to clean weapons. All of mine are filthy.”

He paused for a moment, frankly surprised by her agreement. Then he swiftly took over the cleaning of her spear, using a soft bristle brush to wipe the dried mud from the crevices on the rope-bound head and tip before polishing the blade and handle. 

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes as he cleaned the spear. She was sitting up straight with her palms on her knees and her eyes closed, and he watched as she inhaled very slowly until her face twisted with discomfort. 

“May I ask what happened?” he said. 

She opened her eyes and looked at him warily for a moment before replying. “I was… I disabled a dangerous machine. Something of the Eclipse. Then I had to make a run for it and… Well. I fell down a waterfall,” she said.

_The Eclipse? A waterfall?_ He whipped around and stared at her in horror, then forced himself to relax as he met her closed expression. He swallowed hard, then returned his attention to her spear. “That sounds… incredibly difficult. I’m glad you came here,” he said carefully. “I hate to imagine you coping alone after such a fall.” 

It was the most moderated version of what he was really thinking. In truth, he hated the idea of her carrying so many burdens on her own. Taking on the Eclipse by herself, putting herself at so much risk that she fell down a waterfall and had to drag herself to the palace all alone…

It wasn’t the danger of her journey that worried him per se. Danger was an omnipresent reality for any solo traveller in the Sundom, and if anyone could handle those dangers, it was Aloy. It was the solitude of it that Avad found most striking: the fact that she had no one to share her journey with, and that she seemed suspicious of anyone who wanted to know more of her travels. 

But Avad wanted to know more. He wanted to be someone she could confide in. He wanted to offer refuge if her travels knocked her off her feet. If only he could be of some help to her in some small way… 

There was a long and quiet pause as Avad cleaned Aloy’s bow, then moved onto her ropecaster. Finally she spoke. “I remembered your offer to stay here,” she said, then she shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea when I realized it hurt to breathe.” She smirked, but Avad noticed that she studiously kept her eyes on her hands.

“I’m glad,” he repeated softly. “And the offer still stands whenever you have a need. You are always welcome here, Aloy.” 

She lifted her eyes from her hands and met his gaze, and Avad returned her stare in silence, arrested by her shimmering green-and-golden eyes. He studied her lovely face with a growing ache of tenderness as her eyebrows creased slightly, her lips pressing together and her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.

Finally she dropped her gaze and cleared her throat. “Well. I have to get moving.” She rose to her feet and reached for her bow.

A plea for her to stay and rest for one more night was primed at the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself from letting it loose. Instinctively he knew that if he pushed for her to stay, he would succeed only in pushing her away. He stood back and watched as she arranged her spear and bow on her back and her ropecaster on her hip. 

Once she was suitably outfitted for travel, she looked up at him. Her lips were stern, but her eyes seemed softer than usual. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the… I appreciate all of it.” She waved vaguely at the room, then gave him a small smile before setting off toward the door. 

Avad fell into step beside her. “Where will your travels take you next?” he asked.

She shot him a sideways look, and he shrugged casually. “Indulge this poor king in his curiosity,” he said. “I don’t get to travel much, as you can imagine.” 

Just as he’d hoped, she smirked. “Poor king, my ass,” she muttered. She shook her head in amusement before answering. “I’m headed to Sunfall.”

_Sunfall?_ Why was she going to Sunfall? It was teeming with Shadow Carja, it was dangerous - but no, Aloy could handle herself, he knew this. But she’d fallen from a waterfall the last time she’d faced the Eclipse on her own - no, no point bringing that up, she would never come back again if Avad brought that up. Maybe Aloy would see Itamen while she was there. Maybe Vanasha would - but no, Vanasha had things under control, and Aloy didn’t need to be pulled into helping the Sundom more than she already had… 

Embroiled in his suddenly roiling thoughts, Avad realized that he’d stopped walking. He stumbled to catch up with Aloy as she opened the door and stepped into the hall. “Will you be delving in more ruins of the Old Ones? Is that why you are going there?” he asked.

“Yes,” Aloy said. Already she looked preoccupied, like her mind was halfway to Sunfall already, and although Avad was anxious to know more about her quest, he wasn’t sure what else to say to regain her waning attention. He silently accompanied her to the end of the hall. 

They turned the corner, and Avad slowed to a stop as he spotted Ulkert and Helga faithfully guarding the end of the hall. He took a deep breath and turned to Aloy, who was frowning absently at the guards. 

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Avad said. 

Aloy flicked her eyes back up to his face, and he admired her lovely frown with a now-familiar pang of wistfulness. 

“For now,” she said. “I’ll be back.” 

Avad raised his eyebrows. He was surprised but very pleased. She had never actually told him before that she would come back. 

“You will?” he said. Then he belatedly realized how much of a foolish moonstruck adolescent he sounded. 

He was further mortified when the corner of her lips lifted in a tiny half-smile. “Yes,” she said. She dropped her eyes and ran a hand across her hair. “I might learn things that would be important to you. I… You could benefit from knowing things. Stuff I might learn in the ruins there. I could… tell you about it. The things I’m learning, I mean. And maybe about… other travel stuff.”

Her words were awkward and her tone of voice was stiff, but Avad recognized it for what it was. She was offering to tell him more about her mysterious mission. Aloy wore her solitude like a cloak, but she was offering to let him see beneath it. 

His heart fluttered hopefully in his chest. “I would like that very much,” he said softly. “All the more reason to pray for your safe and timely return.”

She shot him another quick glance, and perhaps Avad was imagining it, but her cheeks seemed a little bit pinker than before. “Okay,” she said. “Goodbye for now, then.” She strode away without further ado.

Avad waited until she passed Helga and Ulkert in the hall, then he headed for his private quarters. Once he was alone, he flopped happily onto the nearest chaise-lounge. 

As usual, Imaginary-Ersa made an appearance in his mind. “Not bad,” she said. “I guess I’m not the only one who goes for the dorky type.”

He smiled to himself as he imagined her teasing tone. Then he sighed. _What do you think of Marad’s advice?_ he thought. _Should I be keeping my distance?_ Avad understood his advisor’s wish to avoid more strife between the clans, especially as the Carja-Oseram alliance needed more careful nurturing than ever in the wake of Ersa’s passing. But Avad’s burgeoning friendship with Aloy felt different than his relationship with Ersa had been. Less fraught with danger, somehow. And somehow less public, despite Aloy’s fame.

Imaginary-Ersa shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do,” she said. “But you have good instincts, Avad. You’ll figure it out.” 

He sighed again. His brief feeling of elation was already fading into his customary state of worry. _Then why do I often feel like I don’t know what I am doing?_ he wondered. Ersa and Kadaman had always seemed so self-assured. He often wished that he had their confidence. 

“The best leaders should question themselves sometimes,” Imaginary-Ersa advised. “That’s what makes you a fine king.” 

He nodded to himself, then closed his eyes and settled more comfortably on the chaise-lounge. 

He wondered what Aloy would think of Marad’s advice. She was so pragmatic that Avad thought she might actually agree with the clever advisor. But in his last few encounters with her, Avad had seen a side of her that he hadn’t expected from the fierce and focused warrior that he’d first met: a side of her that was bashful and a bit awkward, and that reminded him oddly of himself. 

_I wonder what she’ll find in Sunfall,_ he thought idly. He hoped she would find the justice for her people that she’d been searching for so single-mindedly.

He hoped she would be willing to tell him more about her travels and her life when she returned. He thought of her pink-cheeked promise to share the things she learned, and he smiled to himself.

It was the last thought Avad had before sleep snuck in to sweep him away.


	3. Take Flight

When Aloy returned to Meridian two weeks later, she wasn’t alone.

Avad was waiting anxiously at the Brightmarket docks with his guards. One of Marad’s men had arrived yesterday from Sunfall to report that Vanasha’s plan was going forward, and Itamen and Nasadi were due to arrive this afternoon.

Avad shifted restlessly from foot to foot, then forced himself to stand still. He might be itching with nerves, but it wouldn’t do for his people to see the Sun-King looking so anxious. 

One of his leaned in close. “Your Radiance, are you certain you don’t want a stool?” 

“Thank you, Taviv, but no,” Avad murmured. “I’ll try to enjoy this rare opportunity to stretch my legs.” He smiled ruefully at the guard, who smiled back before resuming his guarding position.

Avad took a sip from his golden water flask, then returned his attention to the gulf that separated the Sundom and the Forbidden West. And finally, at long last, he spotted something. 

_There._ His heart leapt into his throat. It was a vessel on the water, too distant to make out the occupants on board, but as Avad watched, one figure on the boat waved a banner in the air.

The banner was a golden triangle. Avad released his breath, then turned to his guards with a grin. “It is them,” he said. “That’s Vanasha’s signal.” 

The guards smiled. “Congratulations, Your Radiance,” Taviv murmured.

Avad clapped the guard on the shoulder, unable to hold back his pleasure. He felt galvanized with excitement. The last time he had seen Itamen, the boy had barely outgrown his baby fat. Avad wondered how tall he would be now. He wondered if he would even recognize his younger brother; a child could change so much in two years. 

It seemed to take forever for the small boat to arrive at the docks. By the time it was close enough for Avad to count the number of occupants, the sun was setting in a beautiful blaze of colour, but its waning rays were more than bright enough to light the most unexpected occupant’s hair into a halo of fiery glory.

_Aloy._ Avad’s joy-filled heart swelled even further as he recognized her unmistakable silhouette. Of course she’d gotten involved in Vanasha’s plot. It seemed that no good deed went untouched by her talented hands. 

By the time the boat reached the docks, Avad was so keyed up with anticipation that he could barely maintain his veneer of kingly decorum. He stepped forward as Nasadi and Itamen debarked the small craft. 

He smiled warmly at Nasadi, then crouched in front of his little brother. “Itamen, welcome home,” he said gently. He fondly studied the younger boy’s worried face. Itamen was far taller than Avad remembered, but his cheeks were as round as ever. 

“You have nothing to fear,” Avad said. “You and your mother are now under the protection of the Sundom - my protection. You have my word: the law of the Sun.” 

Itamen continued to look worried, and Avad gently squeezed his brother’s arm. “There is ice cream waiting for you at the palace,” he whispered. “Orange-pineapple. Is that still your favourite?”

The corner of Itamen’s mouth curled in a tiny smile, and he silently nodded his head. Avad smiled, then rose to his feet and gallantly gestured for Nasadi to precede him. “I am glad to see you safe and well,” he said. 

Nasadi smiled wanly, and Avad noted the dark circles under her eyes with a pang. He nodded for two of his guards to accompany them to the litter that would transport them back to Meridian, then finally turned his attention to Aloy. 

She was watching Itamen and Nasadi walk away with a satisfied little smile on her face. She wore her Carja armour still, and her hair was adorned with a Carja circlet in the shape of a bird. Avad had never seen her looking more fierce or more lovely. 

He swallowed the river of praise that was threatening to spill from his mouth and replaced it with more kingly words instead. “Aloy, it seems I see your influence everywhere,” he said. “You’ve done so much for the Sundom, and it will always be appreciated. You have my thanks.” He bowed to her.

“Appalling,” Vanasha interjected. “I spend two years in the Forbidden West setting this up, and the redhead gets all the credit?”

Avad smirked at his childhood friend, then offered her a bow as well. “Vanasha. Your position awaits at home. I have missed having you at my side.” 

Vanasha snorted mockingly as she clasped his hand in greeting. “Standing at your side. If I’d known I was going to be punished further, I’d have run off with the pretty redhead instead of coming home.”

Avad chuckled, and Vanasha’s smile softened as she turned back to Aloy. “I couldn’t have done this without you. When we meet again, I’ll give you a proper thanks, I promise.” She gave Aloy a friendly punch to the arm, then strolled away to join Nasadi and Itamen.

Avad returned his gaze to the redheaded huntress. “Truly, Aloy, I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done,” he said softly. His every word of thanks felt like pure understatement. For the umpteenth time, Aloy had gone out of her way to help him, and to see her standing here in her alluring Carja armour, looking so casual as though she’d done nothing of note… 

She waved her hand to dismiss his fervent thanks, further inflaming his besotted heart. “You didn’t tell me that this was being planned,” she said. 

Her tone was not at all accusatory, but Avad lifted his hands apologetically all the same. “The plan was well in hand, from what I’d been told,” he explained. “Vanasha is extremely competent, as you have no doubt seen, and I did not wish to burden you with further requests for help. I know how important your mission is to you and your people.” 

Her eyebrows lifted slightly as he spoke. She dropped her eyes to her feet for a moment, then returned her serious gaze to his face. “That’s… considerate of you,” she said slowly. “Really considerate, actually. But I was glad to help.” She glanced past him in the direction of the litter. “Your brother looks like he’s seen some hardships,” she said quietly, and she shrugged. “It was a good cause.” 

He swallowed hard. Why weren’t there more words that he could give her other than _thank you_? Well, there _were_ other words he wanted to say, but they would certainly make him sound like an adolescent fool, and he couldn’t very well say them here in the openness of the Brighmarket docks.

“We will be celebrating Itamen’s and Nasadi’s return tonight,” he said. “Just a small party in the palace. Nothing major, as I don’t want to overwhelm my brother, though a more public feast will likely be in the works. But I - that is, we, the royal family - it would be our honour if you would join us.”

Her gaze darted back to his face, and he watched with bated breath as her expression faded from contentment to wariness. “I don’t know,” she hedged. “I should probably head back to Sunfall. I didn’t make it to those ruins.”

Avad lifted his eyebrows with a fresh rush of almost-painful admiration. Not only had she helped his family, but she’d put aside her own goals once again in order to help him? 

She was… wonderful. And far too busy to give him more of her time. He took a deep breath to quell his disappointment. “I understand,” he said. “And I am humbled once again by your kindness. But if you change your mind…”

He trailed off, then took a small step closer to her. His heart was pounding in his ears, a thrumming beat of respect and undeniable attraction, and the sound of it only doubled when she didn’t step away. 

“The invitation stands,” he said softly. “Your company would honour us. It would honour _me_.” 

She stared up at him with wide eyes, and he gazed steadily back at her, careful to keep his roguish gaze from wandering to her lips. Finally she nodded and took a small step back. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’ll, um. I’ll consider it. Maybe.” She waved haphazardly to him, then slipped past him and hurried away through the village. 

He watched her until the banner of her bright red hair disappeared around the corner of a building, then sighed softly to himself and made his way toward his family. It seemed that all of his encounters with Aloy involved watching her run away. 

_That’s all right,_ he thought. Aloy was the most independent person he’d ever known, untethered and unbound by the kinds of obligations that kept him grounded. In this vicarious way, watching her fly away was something of a bittersweet pleasure. 

But her promise to tell him about her travels lingered in his mind. When that day came, watching her return would be an absolute and unequivocal joy. 

*******************

To Avad’s unexpected delight, Aloy showed up at the palace that same night, albeit quite late. 

Nasadi and Itamen had long gone to bed, and Avad was finishing a celebratory glass of wine in the royal family’s dining room when Tahli poked her head in. “Your Radiance, I apologize for the interruption,” the serving girl said. “But Aloy has arrived.”

Avad perked up. “She has? I didn’t think…” He trailed off, belatedly realizing how clearly his eagerness was showing. He’d only had two glasses of wine, but he supposed that that was enough nowadays to slow his wits.

He collected his face into a placid expression. “Thank you, Tahli,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Would you invite her here? She may be hungry.” 

Tahli gave him a tiny smile. “Of course, Your Radiance,” she said, and she slipped away. 

Avad rose from the table and dithered for a moment. _I should probably tidy myself up - where is my stole?_ He looked around the room a bit wildly as he shoved his feet back into his shoes, then spotted his stole in a crumpled pile on the divan.

He regarded the wrinkled stole with dismay for a moment, then dismissed it. He usually only wore it for morning court, anyway. But he should probably splash some cold water on his face at the very least, see if that would snap him out of the influence of the wine he’d had.

He barely had time to dry his face before he heard a knock on the dining room door. Avad hastily smoothed the creases from his silk pants, then straightened his posture.

“Come in!” he called, and the door creaked open to reveal Tahli, with a nervous-looking Aloy in her wake. 

Tahli gave a slight bow then promptly left the room, leaving Avad alone in the dimly-lit dining room with Aloy. He beamed at her. “Aloy, I am so pleased you came,” he said. He politely gestured toward the table. “Would you like a seat?”

She took a tentative step closer, and Avad watched as her eyes darted around the room before settling on his face. “Where are Nasadi and Itamen?” she asked.

_Oh. Of course,_ he thought with a pang of embarrassment. That was why he’d invited her here, wasn’t it? He pulled an apologetic little grimace. “Unfortunately, they have gone to bed,” he said. “But I, um, if you would like, I can offer you… are you hungry?” 

She relaxed visibly, to Avad’s surprise. “Not particularly,” she said. “I ate before I came.” 

“Ah. Well. A beverage, perhaps?” Avad said hopefully. He beckoned her closer. “I was enjoying some wine myself, but I can have some juice brought for you if you prefer. And there is always water, or if you are partial to the Oseram’s Scrappersap…” 

He was babbling. He snapped his mouth shut and ignored a brief fleeting image of both Ersa and Kadaman snickering at him. Thankfully, Aloy saved him from further embarrassment. “Um, wine,” she said. “I’ll have some wine, thanks.”

He smiled at her, then gestured again to the table. “Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” He fetched a clean glass from the buffet and poured some wine for Aloy and himself. 

She gingerly took a seat, then shot him a smirk as he handed the wine to her. “I’d have thought you’d have servants to pour your wine. That’s how it works in palaces, doesn’t it?” 

“That is normally true,” he admitted as he sat beside her. “But when I’m on my own, I prefer to do such things myself. It’s humbling to remember that I can still brush my own teeth.” He shot her a small smile. 

She chuckled quietly, and Avad felt a spark of pleasure at having coaxed a rare laugh from her. Feeling slightly more at ease, he settled back in his chair and sipped his wine. “I was certain you would have left Meridian,” he said. “What made you… I mean, why did you…” _Oh, Sun save me,_ he thought. His usual kingly words were failing him. He probably shouldn’t be drinking more wine. 

With effort, he gathered his wits. “I am honoured to have you here,” he finally said. “What brings you-”

“Come on, Avad, you can relax,” Aloy said. “There’s no one else around. You don’t have to have perfect manners when it’s just me.”

He gaped at her, shocked but delighted by the familiarity and the warmth of her words. A sly little smile was lifting the corner of her lips, and Avad couldn’t help but smile back. 

He chuckled, then boldly placed his elbows on the table. “I apologize,” he said. “The more time I spend being ceaselessly well-mannered, the more I forget that there is any other way to be. Not that you are ill-mannered,” he backtracked hastily. “I find you to be very polite. You speak your mind admirably, which is very… admirable. But you do so very politely. I admire that about you.” 

Aloy laughed and tucked her feet up on the chair. “Fire and spit, Avad, how much wine have you had?” 

He sighed and ran one hand through his wavy hair. “Too much, I fear,” he confessed. “Forgive me in advance. Marad would be mortified if he was awake to witness this.” 

She was quiet for a moment, and Avad lifted his anxious eyes to meet her gaze. Then he realized that her eyes weren’t on his face, but on his hair. 

His exposed hair. 

_By the Sun, where is my crown-_ He slapped one palm on his head, then looked around the room wildly. “Oh no,” he said. “What did I do with-” 

“Avad!” Aloy exclaimed. “ _Relax._ It’s okay. Let your hair out. No one needs to know you have any. I’ll keep it a secret.”

He looked at her to find her grinning at him, and finally, for the first moment since she’d stepped in the room, he let his muscles relax completely. 

He heaved a heavy sigh, then ran his fingers through his hair once more and scratched the back of his head. “I do hate that crown,” he admitted, then he took another sip of his wine. “I’ll just be sure to find it before the morning.” 

Aloy chuckled again and swirled the wine in her glass. “You’re funny,” she said.

Avad made a skeptical little sound. “My older brother would have disagreed. Too busy reading or daydreaming to be funny, he’d say.”

“I more meant that you’re interesting,” she clarified, and Avad frowned at her in confusion. Aloy thought him interesting? But he never went anywhere. His days followed the same pattern month after month. He wasn’t a good hunter, and he was a decent fighter, but so was everyone in the Carja army. 

He wanted to ask what she meant, but he had enough sobriety left to know that that would seem far too much like he was seeking compliments. He occupied his mouth instead with another sip of wine. 

Aloy, however, continued to talk. “The stories about you make you out to be some huge, powerful god. That’s what I was expecting when I first came here.”

Avad wilted slightly. “I see. I don’t blame you for being disappointed.”

“I’m not,” Aloy said, and Avad looked up at the bluntness of her words. Her smile was gone, replaced by a thoughtful and serious look that made his heart flip-flop in his chest. 

“I’m glad you’re not what I was expecting,” she said somberly. Then she smirked. “Gods don’t listen very well.” 

He huffed a little laugh. “Well, I’m certainly no god. I am far too sloppy to be a god.” He sipped his wine again, then leaned back in his chair. “Truly, I have not been so sloppy around anyone except Kadaman.”

Aloy tilted her head. “Not even Ersa?” she asked.

He flicked his eyes to her face. He was unsure what he was looking to find there, but all he saw was open curiosity. 

“No. Not even Ersa,” he replied. “We… as much as we cared for each other, we were always… The pressing needs of our tribes were always present. We were never really alone. Not like this.” He waved vaguely between himself and Aloy.

She nodded her head slowly as she ran her finger along the rim of her glass, and Avad watched with a fuzzy kind of confusion as her cheeks began to pinken. Then, far too late, he realized what he had said. 

“Oh,” he blurted. “Oh, Aloy. I didn’t mean - not to imply that you and I - that is, not unless you - I mean-” He snapped his mouth shut. _Sun strike me down,_ he thought desperately. 

He straightened in his seat, then bowed his head to her. “Forgive me, Aloy. I don’t want you to think I confuse you with Ersa. You both bear certain similarities, it’s true, but that has no bearing on my feelings for you. I wish you to know that.”

She lifted her wide hazel eyes back to his face, and yet another surge of humiliation swept through his chest as his sluggish brain registered his overly-revealing words. He buried his face in his hands for a moment, wishing fervently that he could bury his own useless head in the sand.

He looked up at her pleadingly. “I didn’t mean to tell you that,” he said. “Please, forget I said anything. I… I know you are not looking for anything, er, permanent in the Sundom. Please, pretend you didn’t hear this, for both our sakes.” 

He wasn’t sure whether to be violently relieved or even more embarrassed when Aloy laughed. “Well, that was subtle,” she said. 

He winced. “I usually am much more subtle than this.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” she said. Her cheeks were pink, but her smile was broad, and Avad’s frenzied heart rate began to slow as he realized that she wasn’t angry. In fact, she looked very relaxed indeed. 

She shook her head in amusement. “It’s okay, Avad. Don’t worry about it,” she said, then lifted her glass and finally took a sip of wine. Her face immediately crinkled into a moue of displeasure, and she swallowed hard before setting the glass down. 

Avad smiled, distracted from his own foolishness by her comical grimace. “Have you never had wine before?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’ve had Scrappersap before, but not wine.” She peered into the glass with distaste. “I didn’t think I’d come across anything I’d like less than Scrappersap, but this might just be worse.”

Avad chortled. “Don’t let the kitchen staff hear you say that. You looked just like Itamen when he tried wine for the first time.”

Aloy raised one eyebrow. “You gave wine to your six-year-old brother?”

“Kadaman did. Just once. And he was four at the time,” he replied. He leaned back in his chair and comfortably crossed his ankles. “It was a dinner party with some of the extended family - my father trying to spread his influence, you see. But Itamen was being particularly difficult and demanding that day. He was a boisterous child-”

“He was?” Aloy said in surprise.

Avad nodded. “Very rambunctious, very active. The nursemaids were run off their feet trying to keep him off of the roofs. Anyway, he was being more… spirited than usual at this dinner, and even our father’s threats wouldn’t get him to behave. He kept asking to drink from everyone’s glass, so finally Kadaman gave him his glass of wine to keep him quiet.” Avad chuckled. “His face puckered up so tightly that I thought it would turn inside out. He never asked to drink from another adult’s glass after that.” 

Aloy smiled but didn’t reply, and Avad examined her slightly wistful expression. “Do you have any siblings, Aloy?” he asked. “I’m ashamed to realize that I know very little about you.”

She dropped her gaze and idly swirled the wine in her glass. She was quiet for long enough that Avad began to worry that he’d upset her. When she finally looked up at him again, her expression was oddly neutral. 

“I have no family,” she said. “Aside from… the man who raised me.” She looked away, and her fingers toyed idly with the stem of her glass. “His name was Rost. He died in the Proving Massacre.”

Avad studied her with a writhing of sympathy. No family… That might explain the solitude that she seemed to carry like both a comfort and a curse. But what did she mean by ‘the man who raised her’? This man Rost wasn’t her father?

He desperately wanted to know more, but her face was creasing into its customary frown, and it didn’t seem right to ask. So Avad asked something else instead. “What was Rost like?” 

She lifted her eyes to his face once more. “He was strict,” she said. “Very stern. He didn’t take kindly to nonsense.” 

“I can see his influence in you,” Avad said with a smile.

Her expression relaxed into a smirk, and Avad was pleased when a bit of tension left her shoulders. “He was the best hunter I’d ever seen. The best _person_ ,” she said. “He taught me everything I know.” She toyed with the wine glass for a moment longer. “I’m going to avenge him,” she said, then she took a big gulp of wine. 

Avad sat silently for a moment until Aloy had finished her glass of wine. “I am sorry for your loss,” he murmured. 

She shrugged. “Thanks,” she said. 

The silence sat between them for a moment longer until Avad spoke again. “I am not sure what the Nora believe about life after death, but… if you believe that anything of Rost remains in the world, I am certain he would be watching you with great pride. I have only known you to act in ways that would make any decent father proud.” 

She bowed her head and turned her face away. Avad respectfully lowered his eyes, then slowly sipped his wine until Aloy wiped her face and lifted her chin to face him. 

“What about you?” she said. “Tell me more about Kadaman. What was he like?”

Avad cautiously looked at her. Her face was calm, but her eyes were distinctly reddened. 

He forced himself to breathe through the cloying rush of tenderness that seemed to be filling his chest. “He was very charming,” he said. “Everybody loved him. He was certainly more suited to be the Sun-King than I.”

Aloy huffed. “Charm alone doesn’t make a good king.”

Avad modestly lowered his eyes. “I hope that is true. But Kadaman was more than just charming. He was… decisive. A fast thinker. He made decisions quickly, and they were good decisions more often than not.” 

She hummed a quiet acknowledgment. “You make it sound like he was a natural leader.” 

“He was,” Avad agreed. He sighed and tugged on a stray curl of hair. “I’ll admit, I was a bit envious of him. I still am now. He had a certain… well, certainty. Sometimes I wish for that.” He ran a hand through his hair once more, then marvelled idly at how relaxed he felt. Perhaps it was the wine or the late hour of night, or perhaps it was the friendly quirk of Aloy’s rosy lips, but Avad truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much at ease, or so much like himself.

Here, in this room, he didn’t feel like the Sun-King. He just felt like… Avad.

Aloy thoughtfully tilted her head. “Uncertainty has its place, though,” she said. “It lets you be open to lots of points of view. I think that’s one of your greatest strengths as a king.”

_That’s what Ersa would have said,_ he thought. He affectionately studied Aloy’s lovely face. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I hope that uncertainty is not my only strength, though. I suppose only time will tell.”

“Well, you have really good hair,” Aloy said. “You can count that as a strength. Though I suppose that’s not really a kingly talent.” 

He looked at her in surprise, then grinned at her suddenly flaming cheeks. _It’s probably the wine,_ he thought, but he couldn’t stop himself from reciprocating the unexpected compliment. 

“If it were, then you would be a queen,” he replied. “I am sure you tire of hearing this, but your hair is truly magnificent.”

She snorted with laughter and rubbed her nose, and Avad bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at how bashful she looked. “Tell that to your priest Irid,” she said. “I think he would spontaneously combust if he heard _you_ say the words ‘Sun-Queen’.”

Avad chuckled at the thought. “Ah, yes. Irid. He is one of our more… _interesting_ priests.”

“You can say that again,” Aloy said, and suddenly they were both laughing uninhibitedly.

Avad clutched his stomach as he laughed. The laughter felt like it was pouring from his belly, spilling from his mouth into the air and taking all his worries with it. By the time he and Aloy finally caught their breath, he felt as loose and limp as a sheaf of fine silk. 

He sighed happily and smiled at Aloy. The warm candlelight flickered over the gold highlights in her marvelous mane of hair, and she was grinning still, her cheeks pink with mirth and her arms wrapped cozily around her knees. 

_Beautiful,_ he thought dumbly. She was truly beautiful. He continued to gaze gormlessly at her, admiring the smattering of freckles across her nose and the delicate bow of her lips. By the time he realized he’d been looking at her for too long, he also realized that she hadn’t broken his stare.

He swallowed hard. The longer he looked at her, the more her smile began to soften, and yet her eyes… Was he imagining it, or were they more intense and warm than they usually were?

He was so utterly captivated by her heated expression that he actually jolted when she spoke. “Avad, can I… do you mind if I remain at the palace tonight?” she asked. “I could make camp outside the city walls, but I’m kind of tired…”

“Of course,” he blurted. He rose to his feet. “I’ll - yes, of course. You’re more than welcome…” He waited as she slid to her feet as well, then gallantly gestured for her precede him toward the door. As he followed her, he made an effort to pull himself together, and by the time they opened the dining room doors and greeted the two omnipresent guards that were waiting there, Avad was fairly certain he appeared to be his usual regal self. 

He nodded to the guards, then turned to Aloy. “May I escort you to your room?” he asked politely. 

“Yes. Thank you,” she said with equal politeness. Then he and Aloy proceeded toward the royal guest wing with the two guards in tow. 

They didn’t speak as they moved through the halls, but Avad couldn’t ignore the faint thrill beneath his skin. The only sounds as they walked through the halls were their quiet footsteps - _no,_ Avad corrected himself, just his steps and those of his guards, for Aloy’s tread was practically silent. 

“That must be a useful talent for a hunter,” he said. 

She shot him a quizzical look. “What?” 

Avad winced slightly. He hadn’t realized he was thinking out loud. “I simply noticed that... You walk very silently,” he explained sheepishly. “That must be a highly valued skill for a hunter.”

“Oh. Yeah,” she said. “Definitely makes it easier for me to sneak around.” 

Her tone was bland and polite, but something about her words made his stomach squiggle with excitement. He shot her a very quick and surreptitious glance. 

Her expression was just as bland as her words, and her eyes were on the corridor ahead, but the neutrality of her face somehow made the anticipation in his belly roil more strongly still.

An eon later, they found themselves outside of the room where she’d recuperated a couple of weeks ago. Avad stopped a respectful distance away and folded his hands behind his back. “Goodnight, Aloy,” he said. “May the Moon set quickly on your night and carry you pleasantly back to the light of day.” 

She toyed with the handle of the door for a moment, then turned to face him. “Goodnight,” she said. 

He stared at her. The cant of her head and the blazing golden heat of her eyes… He was certain he wasn’t imagining it this time. 

His breath was stuck in his chest. His heart was pounding in his ears. His eager eyes fell on her mouth, and his sense of vertiginous dizziness surged higher still when she wet her slightly parted lips. 

He swallowed hard. Her lower lip held a slight sheen now, and by the holy flaming Sun, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tip her chin up and taste her delicate lower lip… 

His head was spinning - whether with desire or wine he couldn’t tell - and that was a problem. Not to mention his guards, and not to mention that Aloy hadn’t actually said if she felt the same way about him as he had so gracelessly admitted that he felt for her… 

He took a careful step away from her. “Goodnight,” he said, then winced as he realized he’d said that already. 

A smile lifted her lovely lips, and Avad’s mouth went dry at the heat and humour in her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Radiance,” she said. Then she opened the door to her room and disappeared inside. 

The door closed behind her, and Avad finally exhaled. “By the Sun, I am a fool,” he muttered. 

One of his guards chuckled softly, and the other one spoke. “If it’s of comfort to Your Radiance, we have seen far more foolish acts than this.” 

Avad rubbed his unruly hair and smiled ruefully at the guards as they made their way back up the hall. “I appreciate the sentiment, my friends,” he murmured, and the three of them chuckled as they made their way to Avad’s private quarters. 

Well, tomorrow was a new day. And Avad could only hope to regain his dignity in the light of the Sun. 

*********************

Aloy spent the next three days on various errands in Meridian and the Jewel, and nobody was more surprised and pleased than Avad when she returned to the palace on each of those nights. 

Each night, they found their way to each other in the deserted dining room. Each night, they had one (small) glass of wine, and they talked. 

Aloy told him about her travels, just as she’d said she would. She was a bit cautious at first, stopping and starting her tale with many interjections that it was hard to explain, but when Avad made it clear that he was happy to hear about anything at all that she’d done, her stories came more smoothly. 

She told him about the differences between the Sundom and the Sacred Lands - the flora and fauna, the climate, and the machines. She explained how stunned she’d been when she first began to encounter all the new machines that the Sundom boasted, and how she’d almost been gored by a Trampler on her third day across the border. She told him about the Hunting Grounds and Free Heap and a very odd Banuk shaman she’d met in the desert. She even told him about the strange little item of jewelry she wore at her ear, the item she called a Focus, and she told him the tale of how she’d found it as a child.

Avad, in turn, told her more about his childhood. He felt shy and sheepish at first, having grown up in a privileged and pampered setting, but Aloy seemed just as fascinated with his upbringing as he had been by hers. He told her about his family, stories of his brothers and his late mother, and he told her more about Jiran. He explained what his father had been like when he was young and how he’d changed, and he described the awful but inevitable circumstances of Jiran’s death. Aloy listened quietly and closely as he spoke, and the gentle sympathy in her face made him realize that this was the first time he’d really told anyone in detail about… any of this. 

When Kadaman had died, Avad had had no time to mourn. The months following his brother’s death had been a whirlwind of survival and planning and gathering his allies. After Avad had killed his father, there had been no time to mourn the relationship they used to have; his full attention had been occupied by reassuring his people, smoothing the relations between the Carja and the Oseram, and restoring order to a kingdom that had been slowly falling into chaos for over a decade. 

These past few idyllic nights, in this quiet dining room with this redheaded huntress from the east: these nights were the first moments of true peace that Avad had felt in years. And for the first time in years, he cried. 

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. One moment he was telling Aloy about a time when Kadaman had stolen his favourite book and thrown it onto the roof above their childhood bedroom, and the next thing he knew, tears were scalding their way down his cheeks. 

He turned away from her in embarrassment and searched desperately in his pocket for a handkerchief. “I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “I don’t know what you must think of me.” _Father would have been disgusted,_ he thought. The stray thought only made the lump in his throat swell further. 

He roughly wiped his cheeks, then shielded his face with one hand as he tried to regain control. A moment later, something soft was pressed into his other hand. 

He blindly closed his fingers around the fabric and dabbed his salt-stained cheeks. “Forgive me, Aloy,” he muttered. “The last thing you need is to hear about someone else’s sorry tales. It was not my wish to lay all of this on you.”

“Stop apologizing,” she said. 

He looked up at her, compelled by the firmness of her tone. She’d risen from her chair and was crouched in front of him, and the look on her face was a perfect mix of sternness and sympathy. 

“You’re not burdening me,” she told him. “Listening to you - talking to you is _not_ an imposition, okay? I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

He gazed into her fierce green-and-golden eyes, then sniffed hard and nodded. “Thank you, then,” he said. “For your kindness.”

She huffed, then rose to her feet and sat cross-legged in the chair beside him. “Don’t thank me, either,” she said. “That’s what friends are for.” She shrugged and tugged idly at her wristguards. 

_Friends._ Despite his lingering grief, a glow of contentment warmed his belly. He smiled at her, but when she lifted her gaze to his face again, she looked slightly sad. 

“I have to get moving soon,” she said. “I really need to check out those ruins under Sunfall.”

A heavy weight of disappointment dimmed the happiness in his gut. But truly, he had been lucky that she stayed this long at all. “I understand your urgency,” he said. “But… do you have the time to stay for one more night?”

She raised one eyebrow. “I might. Why do you ask?”

Avad smiled. “Have you ever seen fireworks before?” 

********************

The next night, Aloy appeared at the palace for the fireworks show that Avad had arranged in Itamen and Nasadi’s honour. 

Avad smiled as she approached, then bent down to speak to his little brother. “You remember Aloy,” he murmured. “She’s going to watch the show with us.” 

Itamen glanced nervously at him and Nasadi, and Nasadi nodded her head in Aloy’s direction.  
The small boy gulped, then looked up at Aloy. “May the Sun shine on you,” he said.

“Good manners run in the family, I see,” Aloy said to Avad. She nodded politely to Nasadi, then crouched beside Itamen. “I’ve never seen fireworks before. What are they like?”

Itamen’s face lit up. “It’s like a billion rainbow-coloured stars exploding in the sky,” he said enthusiastically. Then he seemed to remember himself and folded his hands behind his back. “I hope you will enjoy the show,” he said somberly. 

Aloy raised her eyebrows as she rose to her feet. “So this is a show that happens in the sky, then?” she asked. 

Avad nodded. “Yes. We usually watch from the pagoda.”

Aloy glanced at the pagoda. “Wouldn’t a higher vantage point be better?”

“Most certainly,” Avad said with a spark of curiosity. Aloy had a shrewd look on her face, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

She didn’t reply immediately, but Avad watched with growing amusement as her gaze roved away from the pagoda and up toward the roofs. He could see exactly where this was going. 

Finally she looked at Nasadi. “With your permission, I think Itamen should see the fireworks show from the roof,” she said.

Itamen whipped his head around to stare up at his mother, but Nasadi twisted her lips. “I’m not sure,” she said worriedly. “I’d prefer if he was close by…”

“Avad and I will protect him,” Aloy said firmly. “He won’t be harmed.”

“Please, Mother?” Itamen begged. 

Nasadi wilted slightly as she looked down at him, then finally she sighed. “All right. Yes. But you do exactly as Aloy and your brother say,” she said severely. “No being silly. No hanging from the roof with one hand!”

Itamen clapped his hands merrily, and Aloy gave tiny snort. “He did that?” she muttered to Avad. 

Avad rubbed his mouth to hide his smile. “I told you he was rambunctious.” 

“Come on, Avad, let’s go!” Itamen chirped, and he eagerly took Avad’s hand and pulled. 

Avad smiled fondly at his brother as they made their way toward the emergency ladder that led to the nearest roof. This was the brightest and most cheerful that the small boy had been since he’d returned from Sunfall. 

Once they reached the ladder, Avad turned to Aloy. “This is a wonderful idea,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

She grinned at him, and Avad smiled helplessly back at her until Itamen impatiently tugged his hand. “Come _on_ , Avad!” 

“Patience, little brother,” he said, and he gestured for Itamen to climb. 

A few moments later, he and Aloy were seated on the roof with Itamen between them. The boy had promised to stay sitting on his bum, but he wiggled about with excitement as he waited for the show to start.

Just then, a tiny stream of light rose from the docks of Meridian Village and rocketed into the sky, and Avad pointed. “There,” he said. 

Aloy and Itamen looked. A split second later, the tiny stream of light exploded into a shimmering cascade of red and gold. 

Itamen cheered, and Aloy’s jaw dropped. “Fire and spit,” she breathed. 

Avad admired the play of light across her face as another firework bloomed, this time into a pattern of white and blue. Her eyes were as wide as Itamen’s as she stared at the sky. 

“The sky lit up like this… it’s amazing.” She turned to him with an excited grin.

He beamed back at her, far more captivated by her joy than by the fireworks themselves. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. 

“I love it,” she replied, then eagerly turned her face back to the sky. 

Avad gazed at her for a moment longer before turning his own eyes to the sky. He watched the show in a happy daze, enjoying Itamen’s and Aloy’s gasps of delight more than the actual show. Eventually Aloy stretched her legs out and leaned her weight back on her hands, and Avad mirrored her pose, feeling far happier than he had in a long time. Truly, this moment was nearly perfect: his beloved baby brother was safe and savouring one of the few childhood joys that were left to him. Nasadi and Vanasha were safe as well. Erend was enjoying a well-earned night off, and Marad was handling any nighttime affairs with his usual competence. And Aloy…

Aloy was here. She was here, and she was happy. And that thought alone was enough to make Avad’s chest swell with joy. 

He gazed contentedly up at the blooming brightness that lit the sky. Then he felt something: a gentle touch on his hand. 

He glanced down to see Aloy’s little finger brushing against his own. 

A dizzying surge of hope stole his breath, and his gaze darted to her face. Her eyes were on the sky, but as Avad breathlessly watched her face, he felt her fingers slowly slide over the back of his hand. 

He bit his lower lip. Then, just as slowly, he turned his hand over so her fingers slid across his palm. 

Aloy interlaced her fingers with his, then finally turned her face to meet his gaze, and Avad could barely breathe. Her face was serious and unsmiling, but her eyes… 

Her eyes were so clear and deep, and Avad felt himself being drawn into them as though there were warm and tender hands pulling on his heart. He gaped at her, stunned and thrilled by the seriousness and the warmth in her face and the callused heat of her palm, and then the corners of her lips began to lift.

She was smiling at him, a smile that must surely match his own. A sunburst of white and red flowered in the sky, and Aloy squeezed his hand. Avad stared joyfully into her warm and smiling eyes, his heart thrumming madly as though there was a hummingbird in his chest. 

Aloy would be leaving tomorrow, flying to the Forbidden West to continue her journey, and Avad would remain here as always. But at this moment, lifted and lit from within by her bright and brilliant smile, he felt like his heart was on wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come, don't worry! This fic should be done by the end of January - probably earlier!


	4. Soar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW smut.

A month went by. Aloy did not return.

Avad went about his daily activities. He rose at dawn and took his coffee and the morning report with Marad. He completed his sun salutations at the temple three days a week. He held the morning court until midday, and he ate his solitary lunch before moving on to the afternoon’s meetings. 

In the evenings, Avad ate supper with Itamen and Nasadi. He tutored and played with Itamen until he went to bed. Then Avad filled his nights with paperwork. He reviewed contracts and trade agreements and reports from the outskirts of his lands. When his eyes began to itch and burn with tiredness, he moved on to reading the Sun Scriptures or history books until he fell into a restless sleep. 

He packed his days with work and his nights with distractions, and he tried not to think of Aloy. 

_She didn’t say she would come back right away,_ he reminded himself daily. She had no pressing reason to return, after all; her visits to the palace, wonderful though they were for him, had always been premised on business first, and if her business took her elsewhere… well, that was her prerogative. 

Avad reminded himself that her absence was probably a good thing. It probably meant she’d found the answers she’d been seeking, and that she was using those answers to help her people, just as she’d always meant to do. 

The reminders were helpful. They helped him to focus on his kingdom and his family, and not the flame-haired huntress whose rare and brilliant smile floated through his half-sleeping mind at night. 

When Aloy finally did return a full five weeks after she’d left, she was barely recognizable. 

Avad was eating his lonely lunch when Marad entered the room. “Your Radiance, I apologize for the interruption...”

Avad looked up, instantly alarmed. Marad never interrupted his midday meals, not unless it was an emergency. “What’s wrong?” he demanded as he shoved his feet into his shoes.

Marad bowed his head slightly. “It is Aloy. She has come from the Nora lands. She said she has pressing news-”

“Aloy?” Avad gaped at his advisor, and a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled through his chest - surprise, hope, joy, and then a deep and piercing anxiety: _something must be terribly wrong_.

He was on his feet and following Marad back to the outer court before his crown was back on his head. “Is she well? She’s not-” 

“She is fine,” Marad said hastily. “She appears completely unharmed. Very… well-protected, in fact.”

Avad shot his advisor a questioning look as they swiftly strode toward the pagoda where he received his morning appeals, but Marad’s meaning was made clear the instant he laid eyes on Aloy.

He stared at her in awe. She wore a set of armour the likes of which he’d never seen before: machine armour that seemed lit from within, almost as though the Sun itself lived within its metal plates. 

She turned at his approach, and Avad’s heart seized with a fresh rush of worry. Gone was the easy smile that had lifted his heart so many weeks ago; her lovely face was drawn into the most severe scowl he had ever seen. 

“Aloy. I’m glad to see you well,” he said. He hoped he didn’t look as anxious as he felt. “What brings you back to Meridian?”

“A threat,” she said bluntly. She began to pace slowly back and forth. “The Eclipse will attack soon from the west with an army of ancient war machines,” she continued. “But that’s not the worst of it. They’ll bring a... a _mind_ with them. God, demon, machine - whatever you want to call it. It’s called HADES, and it doesn’t want Meridian at all.”

She turned to face him. “It wants the Spire. And if it gets there, it will send out a call to wake more ancient machines - more than we could ever defeat. All will be lost.” 

Avad’s mind was scrambling with the strangeness of what she was saying. _A demon mind? Where did it come from? How does she know this?_ He didn’t question the veracity of her words; nothing Aloy had ever told him had led them astray. But he barely knew how to respond to this new and strange threat she described. 

“I’m trying to understand,” he finally said. “But… my responsibility lies with Meridian.” He gazed at her apologetically. He wanted to help her - Sun save him, he wanted to so badly - but he was the Sun-King, and he needed to put his people first.

She steadily returned his gaze. “Meridian isn’t the target, Avad. You have to defend the Spire.”

He swallowed hard. Her green-and-gold stare was like a lance pinning him in place. She sounded so certain - that same certainty that he so lacked. 

Then Marad’s voice broke in. “Perhaps the Vanguard, Your Radiance,” he suggested.

Avad turned to his advisor, extremely grateful for his calm presence. “Yes,” Avad said firmly. “Send them to the Spire. Erend knows Aloy, he won’t question it.”

“And have the city guard fortify the western ridge,” Aloy added. “There they can be seen to protect Meridian and the Alight, where the Spire rests.”

Marad nodded, then swiftly walked away. 

Avad released a heavy breath. “Aloy, forgive me,” he said. “I… This is unlike anything I have ever heard of. It is not my intent to question you. I simply -”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “It’s a lot to take in. I’m just glad you’re willing to listen at all.” 

She turned away and pressed her palms against the balcony railing, and Avad moved to stand beside her. “Marad mentioned that you had come from the Sacred Lands,” he said. “But you haven’t said anything about that. How are your people?”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, and Avad gazed at her clenched fists with growing concern. 

“Aloy?” he murmured. He hesitated for a moment, then tentatively brushed his fingers over the back of her hand. 

She moved her hand away and turned to face him. “Some Nora warriors are coming,” she said. “It will take them time to get here. A week, maybe more. I can only hope the Eclipse will take at least that long to get here too.” She lifted her chin slightly, and her expression was more stern than ever. “Will you offer shelter to the Nora when they arrive?”

“Of course,” Avad said instantly. “I - yes, of course, if they will accept our hospitality. Guests from the Sacred Lands… The Sundom has never hosted your people before. It will be our honour.”

Aloy nodded briskly. Her face was so utterly businesslike that Avad was fully expecting her to say she should go, and to turn on her heel and walk away. 

Her next words took him by surprise. “Can I stay here?” she said. 

He took in her severe expression with a sudden pang of tenderness. “Absolutely,” he said. “Nothing would please me more. You are always welcome here.” 

She nodded and looked away at the jungle again, and Avad sympathetically studied her clenched jaw. Something had happened to her, something she was not yet ready to share, and he could only hope she would be willing to tell him in time.

But more than wanting to talk, he wanted… for the Sun’s sake, he wanted to hold her. He wanted to reach for her, to coax her close and to squeeze her hands until the tension fell away from her shoulders. It’s what he would have wanted for himself if he were this upset. 

But Aloy was not like him. She was a hardened warrior, and she’d been honed to a sharp point since she was six years old. She was not accustomed to help, and she was not accustomed to comfort, and Avad would not force it on her if it was not wanted.

He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. “It will take time to prepare our defenses,” he said briskly. “Please, tell me what you know of our enemies - everything.”

She released a small breath, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I don’t know about everything, but I’ll tell you what I can,” she said. And she accompanied him inside the palace. 

He led her to one of the formal meeting rooms, and Marad joined them shortly after. Aloy told them all that she could about HADES: how she had tried to destroy the machine that held the demon-mind all those weeks ago, when she’d fallen down the waterfall. She told them that she’d obtained a key from the ruins under Sunfall, a key that she’d needed to find the answers she sought back in the Sacred Lands. 

She told them about Helis, and how he’d ordered a massacre in the Sacred Lands. She told them that another ancient ruin under the Nora’s Sacred Mountain had informed her of HADES’ plan. And all the while, during her entire harrowing tale of being trapped and stripped of her weapons by Helis, of the frenzied flight to the Nora lands and the mass murder and the subsequent mad rush to return to the Sundom, her expression remained straight and flat. 

Her accounting was so businesslike, sticking to facts and figures and bottom lines. It was neutral and to-the-point, a perfect report that gave them all the information they would need to best arrange their defenses. And it made Avad’s heart ache. 

When the tale was told, Avad turned to Marad. “Call Erend to the palace,” he ordered. “We will need to rally the Oseram; their defenses against the machines’ shock attacks are invaluable. And Vanasha too: have her put out the call for allies - anyone and everyone across the Sundom who can fight. Make sure you tell them that Aloy informed us of a critical threat. Tell them that, and they will come.”

“Of course,” Marad said. He bowed his head to Aloy. “Thank you for the warning, Aloy. And for the information. It has been most pertinent.” 

She nodded back, and Marad’s departure left Aloy and Avad alone. Avad silently poured Aloy another glass of water, then watched as she gulped it down. 

“You must be exhausted,” he said. “Everything you’ve been through, the battles you’ve had to fight… I cannot imagine how you must feel.”

She shook her head and reached for the pitcher of water again. “I’m fine. There’s a lot to do. I should-”

Avad’s resistance finally snapped. He reached out and took hold of her wrist. “Aloy, please,” he said. “You can relax. There is no one else around. It’s safe here. You don’t have to be on your guard.” 

She froze, and Avad held his breath. Then, to Avad’s surprise and mild alarm, she covered her face with her hands. 

He heard her slow intake of breath through her palms. The meeting room was deadly silent as she breathed into her slightly trembling hands, and a lump began to swell in his throat as he waited for her to speak. 

Finally she lowered her hands and released a tiny burst of a laugh. “I am so tired,” she said. She laughed again, a faintly hysterical sound, then pulled off her glittering armoured headgear and ran a hand over her hair. 

Avad rose to his feet. “Come, Aloy. You should retire. I insist,” he said. “Take your usual room in the palace. I will have a meal brought for you, and Tahli can run you a hot bath. Anything else you need to do can wait until after you have rested.” 

She ran her fingers through her hair again, then looked up at him. “A meal and a hot bath in the Carja palace. The royal treatment, huh?” she said. 

Her voice was slightly curled with humour. The corners of her lips were lifted in a tiny smirk, and Avad’s shoulders loosened at the sight of it. 

He shook his head. “Standard hospitality,” he replied. “I would offer you more luxurious treatment, but I suspect you would heartily decline.”

She smiled more widely, and Avad’s foolish heart thumped at the sight. “You would be right about that,” Aloy said. “Honestly, I’d give a thousand shards for a joint of boar and a bedroll.” 

“There is no need for shards,” he assured her. “Anything you desire is at your disposal here.” He extended his hand to help her rise. 

Her eyes darted to his hand, then up to his face. A spike of embarrassment speared his gut as he realized the unintentional double-entendre of his words, and he almost pulled his hand away. But before he could move, Aloy reached up and took his hand. 

His breath caught in his chest as she rose to her feet. She released his hand as soon as she was standing, and her face was back to its usual stern state, aside from the odd intensity of her clear hazel eyes.

“Will you walk me to my room?” she said. 

His tongue was dry. He forced himself to swallow before speaking. “Of - yes, if you - if that’s what you wish.”

She nodded her thanks, and they stepped out of the meeting room. Avad’s two guards fell into step behind them, and they walked quietly to the guest corridor where Aloy’s usual guest suite resided. 

With every silent step, Avad felt like his heart was rising higher and higher in his chest. His belly felt like it was rising too, pressing against his ribs and making it hard to breathe, and he wasn’t quite sure how to categorize this feeling: was it anxiety? Perhaps it was anticipation? But anticipation would be foolish and presumptuous, because he didn’t know what she wanted. She’d only asked him to escort her, not to keep her company. But that odd and shining warmth in her eyes… 

They stopped in front of Aloy’s guest room, and Avad hauled his mind back from his roiling reverie. He gave Aloy a small, polite bow. “Well. If you require anything…”

“Are you busy this afternoon?” she said.

He lifted his head and met her neutral gaze. “I will be meeting with Erend and Vanasha in an hour,” he said with genuine regret. “I must pass on the most pressing elements of what you’ve told us.”

“Oh,” Aloy said. “Of course.” She dropped her eyes, then pushed open the guest room door. 

Avad took a small step toward her. “I am free until that time if you wish to talk further,” he blurted, then bit the inside of his cheek. 

She turned to face him again, and the tiny hint of a smile on her face instantly kicked his besotted heart right back into anticipation. She nodded her head. “Thank you,” she said. “I would appreciate the company.”

She pushed open the door and stepped into the guest room, and Avad turned to his guards. “Please have Tahli bring a meal,” he murmured. “And fetch me when it is time for my meeting.” 

They bowed and murmured acquiescence, and one of the guards marched away to find a palace messenger. Then Avad stepped into Aloy’s suite. 

He quietly closed the door, then turned around to see her standing by the bed and stripping off her glittering armour. 

His heart leapt into his throat. She was wearing leggings and a short-sleeved tunic under her armour, but Avad hastily dropped his eyes all the same. 

“There, er.” He quietly cleared his throat. “There is a chest with extra clothing, if you wish to change,” he said. “Near the-” 

“I know,” she said. “Tahli showed me last time.” Then she said nothing more. 

Avad waited for a few minutes, idly looking at the art on the walls as he listened nervously to the clank and clatter of her armour coming off. When the characteristic sounds fell silent, he chanced a quick glance in her direction in time to see her disappearing behind the shoji screen to change. 

He tentatively took a seat at the suite’s small table. When Aloy came out from behind the screen, she wore loose silk pants and a loose cropped tank top, and her expression was as businesslike as her stride. 

She walked over to her pile of armour, then began collecting the pieces in her arms. “You told Marad to tell your allies that _I_ had informed you of this threat,” she said. She strode over to the table where he sat and dumped her armour on the table with a _clang_. “Why?”

Her arms were folded, and her tone sounded accusatory. Avad warily studied her frown. “Well, because it is true,” he said. “You did inform us of this threat.” 

“But why does that matter?” she snapped. As was her wont when she was agitated, she began to pace in front of the armour-laden table. “Who cares whose information it was? It shouldn’t matter if I’m the one who found the information. They should come because it’s important. They should come because the world is in danger, not because I told them to!” 

He watched her with increasing concern. She wasn’t wrong, but Avad didn’t understand exactly why her ire was so inflamed. 

Her pacing brought her close to him, and he grasped her upper arm to stop her. She unfolded her arms and glared at him, but he steadily returned her gaze. “That is not why they will come,” Avad said firmly. “They will come not because you have commanded it; they will come because they trust your judgment.” 

She continued to scowl at him without speaking, so Avad pressed his point. “Tales of your help have travelled across the Sundom, Aloy. I am not the only person you have helped. I have had reports from my people, from the Oseram, secondhand reports from the odd Banuk…” He gently squeezed her arm. “Your intelligence and your hunting expertise have not gone unnoticed. And neither has the fact that you never ask anything in return.” 

Her lower lip began to tremble. Her eyebrows were still creased in a frown, but Avad could see her hostility melting, and his own throat began to thicken as he watched the vulnerability rising in her face. 

He squeezed her arm once more. “We come to your aid because you deserve it. You have earned it a thousandfold with your kindness and your friendship. _That_ is why they will come. Not in response to some arbitrary command.” He dropped his eyes and released her arm. “I rather envy you, truth be told. I would much rather rule through the love of my people than through divine right.” 

She remained silent as she leaned back against the table. A quiet moment later, she sniffed, and Avad darted a quick glance up to her face.

A tear dripped from her chin. She roughly wiped her cheeks, then lifted her eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. 

Avad watched her with a painful mix of compassion and confusion. It still felt like he was missing something, some crucial piece of the story that she was keeping tucked away, but it was more important to wipe her sadness away. 

He reached for her hand. “Aloy, what is it? What’s the matter?”

She squeezed his fingers hard, but kept her eyes on the ceiling. A long minute later, she finally spoke. “The attack on the Sacred Lands was bad,” she said bluntly. “I… I didn’t know if I would make it back.”

Avad stroked her wrist with his thumb. “But you did,” he said gently. “You did make it back. And… I’m so very glad you did.”

He watched her chest rise as she took another deep, slow breath. Then finally she met his eyes. “I thought I might not see you again,” she said. 

Her reddened eyes were intense - intense and heated and fierce. Avad’s heart leapt into his throat, then began galloping more swiftly than a herd of Lancehorns, and he couldn’t speak. 

Her eyes still on his face, she stepped away from the table and took a few small steps closer to him, and he watched her slow approach in stupid, hopeful silence. 

“This battle that’s coming is going to be bad, too,” Aloy said. “I don’t know what will happen. I hope… I _hope_ we’ll win. I think we can. But I don’t know for sure.” 

He forced his tongue to move. “We’ll be as prepared as possible,” he assured her. “Anything you need, or that you think we’ll need-” 

She reached out and touched his cheek, and his tongue fell still with surprise and a dizzying rush of hope as her fingertips grazed his face. 

“I don’t want to go into this battle without telling you…” She trailed off and dropped her gaze. She was close to him now - so close that her knees were almost touching his. So close that he could touch her leg, her hip, her bare golden waist without even reaching. 

He reached up to her fingers on his cheek and took her hand, then squeezed both of her hands in his. “Tell me what?” he whispered.

She licked her lips, then lifted her eyes once more. “You said you had feelings for me,” she said.

As always, her bluntness was refreshing, and despite the loaded tension that was thickening between them, he smiled. “Yes, I did,” he confirmed. “I… I do.” 

She nodded. Then, to Avad’s shock, she sat on his lap. 

He instinctively placed one hand on her back as she settled herself on his leg. “I like you, too,” she said. “A lot, actually. Even though we haven’t known each other long. I wouldn’t usually… I mean, I haven’t ever…” She scowled as though frustrated with herself, then tried again. “You’re the only person I’ve met that I really like. And…” She trailed off again, then muttered to herself. “Fire and spit.”

Her perch on his lap was awkward. She was twisting her fingers together nervously as though she didn’t know where to put them, and the swelling of affection in Avad’s chest was so vast and so warm that he could barely breathe.

He stroked her back gently and placed his other hand over hers. “It’s all right, Aloy,” he said soothingly. “Take your time.”

“That’s just it,” she said. Her customary frown was back, and her hands were a tight little ball beneath his own. “Maybe we don’t _have_ time. Maybe… Who knows what will happen. We’ll fight them with everything we’ve got, and I’ll do everything I can, but just in case-”

Now it was Avad’s turn to gently stroke her cheek. Her eyes widened as he gently turned her face toward his. 

“I will happily give you whatever time we have,” Avad said. “If that is what you want, then you have only to ask.”

She blinked at him guilelessly, those beautiful sharp green-gold-eyes boring straight into his. Then she took a deep breath. 

“Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.” 

She wet her lips with a tiny flick of the tongue, and Avad’s thrumming heart kicked to an even faster pace, like a braumdrum picking up speed. Carefully and gently, he traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, then brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. 

Her chest rose slightly as she inhaled. Then her fingers were resting on his mostly-bare chest, and Avad lifted his chin, and then -

And then Aloy was kissing him. It was a butterfly-light kiss, a careful caress of the lips, as delicate and light as the press of her fingers on his chest, and Avad stopped breathing altogether at the infinite softness of it. 

He placed his hand on the column of her neck, cradling her gently as she kissed him, wanting her to explore his lips in her own slow time. But when the tip of her tongue gently licked his lower lip, he instinctively darted his tongue out to caress her own. 

He heard her breath catch in her throat. He leaned away to look at her, and she gazed back at him with glowing eyes and flushed cheeks.

Then she smiled. Avad smiled back, and Aloy smiled more broadly still, and when she kissed him again, it was firm and confident and a little bit hungry. 

She placed her hands on his neck, and he joyfully slid his arms around her waist. If Aloy wanted to spend her precious spare time on him in the days to come, then Avad would happily oblige her. 

No single moment he spent with her would ever be a waste.

**********************

They spent the next week preparing for the battle to come. 

Just as Avad had known they would, allies from every corner of the Sundom came pouring into Meridian to fight by Aloy’s side. Avad, Erend, and the military generals spent much time strategizing and fortifying the western ridge, just as Aloy had suggested. Vanasha alternated between overseeing accommodations for the influx of allies and trying to prepare for the inevitable damage and dearth of resources that would follow the fight. Marad received daily reports from his scouts at the western end of the Kingdom, and everyone used this intelligence to modify and perfect their plans. And Aloy floated among everyone, making sure that they had what they needed and going on constant trips out to the jungle and beyond to fetch anything that was missing.

As was always the case before a battle whose advent was yet unknown, time seemed to stop and start in a surreal cycle of waiting and preparing, of ennui and anxiety. But at the end of each day, when the overnight rotation of soldiers was set and the city was safeguarded for the fall of dark, Avad would make his way to Aloy’s suite. 

She was always buzzing when he arrived, pacing around the room as she told him what she’d done that day. Often it involved gathering resources in the jungle and stockpiling ammo for their allies. She spent one long afternoon testing canons with Petra, and another long day collecting herbs for healing and protection potions. Another day it was destroying the herd of Striders that usually lived just southeast of the city; the next day it was venturing into the jungle to clear the Sawtooths and Stalkers in the area. 

“The Eclipse bring Corruptors,” Aloy explained. “The fewer machines are nearby, the fewer they can turn against us as they come.” 

Avad nodded; she’d told him about Corruptors and the way they deranged the machines. “That’s wonderful, Aloy,” he said. “Many casualties will be avoided through your actions.” Then, just as he had for the past few nights, he held out his arm to coax her close. 

She slowed down in her pacing. With a rueful little smile, she sat beside him on the divan and tucked her legs up beneath herself. “You’re so calm,” she said. “I don’t know how you manage it.”

He gave her a rueful smirk of his own, then took off his crown and ran a hand through his hair. “A special kingly talent of mine, I suppose,” he joked.

She smiled more broadly, and a flutter of anticipation lit his belly as she shuffled a little closer on the divan. If Avad was being truthful, his days were spent in a state of near-constant anxiety as he planned and strategized and managed things with Erend and the other military leaders. But somehow, in some strange way during these last few nights, his own disquiet would dissipate in the face of Aloy’s buzzing nerves. These evenings with Aloy had become something of a balm to him; the more peaceful Aloy became, the more peaceful Avad felt, and so he’d begun anticipating these nights together for more reasons than one. 

She inched closer still, and Avad watched as her expression morphed from amusement to something serious and warm. Then, just as she had for the past few nights, she leaned in and kissed him. 

Avad kissed her back, following her lead as he had done each night and letting her set the pace as she traced his lips with her tongue and his collarbones with her fingers. He savoured the warm and herbal scent of her cheek and the soft sound of her breathing when she pulled away from his lips. He savoured the pressure of her mouth and how it shifted from featherlight to firm. 

Her hands floated across his neck and his shoulders, and Avad felt like he was floating too. He felt spoiled by the sweetness of these moments, both soothed and stimulated by the meeting of their lips and the slow and gentle slide of Aloy’s callused hands. In truth, he’d never spent this much time simply kissing anyone; he and Kadaman had not been encouraged to kiss the royal courtesans during their perfunctory visits, and visiting them at all was not something Avad had ever particularly enjoyed. He and Ersa had only had the briefest of clandestine stolen moments together, and once they had retaken Meridian from his father, all of that had ended by mutual, if painful, agreement.

But kissing Aloy… By the Sun’s holy rays, kissing Aloy was nothing like any of that. This was luxurious and leisurely, each moment spun out to infinite lengths by the glorious press of her lips. Perhaps it was ironic that these languorous moments were happening now, right before what would likely be the most terrible machine battle in recent history, but it was an irony that Avad couldn’t help but feel selfishly grateful for.

Time drifted by in an unhurried flow as they kissed. Eventually his hands joined in the fray, exploring her bare waist and her back with the same lingering strokes that her fingers laid upon his chest and arms, but even the sinuous surge of his own lust was something to savour: it was like the swelling of a river in the spring, a slow and inevitable rise as Aloy poured her ever-present curiosity and her passion into his skin, and Avad was only too happy to wait until she told him that she wanted more. 

And so, when Aloy breathlessly broke away after a few hours, just as she had for the past few nights, Avad gazed silently into the stormy depths of her green-and-gold eyes. When she didn’t ask him to stay, he gently kissed her one more time, then bade her a polite goodnight. 

He subtly readjusted himself before leaving her room, and his requisite two guards escorted him back to his own private quarters. Once he was alone, he stripped and donned his loose silk sleeping trousers, and he climbed into his lonely bed. And just as he had for the past few nights, he thought of her.

He stared unseeingly at the dark ceiling, but images floated in full colour behind his eyes: her flaming hair and her rosy mouth and the muscular planes of her golden belly. His mind conjured sensations too, and those were more torturous still: the weight of her body when she straddled him and the subtle arching of her spine beneath his palm. Avad thought of Aloy, and his aching manhood pulsed between his legs like an obnoxious beacon, and he rolled onto his belly and pressed himself against the mattress until he eventually, at long last, fell asleep. 

Some unknown time later, when Avad heard her voice in the deepest dark of the night, he thought it was a dream. 

“Avad?”

He inhaled slowly, but he couldn’t quite open his eyes; his eyelids were so heavy, and it was so dark. Surely he was dreaming.

Then he heard her voice again, coming from the far balcony window. “Avad? I, uh… sorry to wake you…” 

He frowned and lifted his face from his pillow. When he finally spotted her dark and slender silhouette by the balcony, he genuinely didn’t believe his eyes. 

He scratched his head and rolled onto his side. “Aloy?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s, um. It’s me.” 

He frowned. Then finally his brain came to life. 

Anxiety shattered his sleepiness, and he sat up straight in bed. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” he demanded. “Is it the western ridge? Have they-” He threw back the blankets and made to rise. 

“No,” she blurted. She hurried over to the bed. “It’s nothing like - nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Everything is fine, honestly.”

He froze with his feet half on the ground, then relaxed with a sigh of relief. He ran a hand through his messy curls. “Oh, Aloy. I was… Forgive me, I was startled. Here, let me…” He reached over to the bedside table and flicked on the Oseram lamp that Ersa had given him long ago. 

A warm yellow light suffused the room, highlighting the rosy blush on Aloy’s cheeks. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she muttered. “Of course you thought… That was stupid on my part. Should have known…” 

He tilted his head quizzically. Now that he was more awake, he was increasingly confused by her presence. “Did… did you come in through the balcony?” he asked.

She pulled awkwardly at her ear. “Yes,” she admitted. “I, uh, I went across the roof. I thought… Well, you always have guards, and it’s so late - I didn’t think they would let me in…” 

He stared at her sheepish face for a moment, then began to smile. “So you found a way around,” he said. Of course she had. That was Aloy: always finding a route around any obstacle, whether big or small.

She tugged her ear again, then finally smirked. “I’m pretty stealthy when I want to be,” she quipped. 

He chuckled. “So I have heard. I suppose this is simply proof.” 

She smiled but didn’t reply, and Avad watched with growing curiosity as she awkwardly shuffled her bare feet. “What brings you here?” he asked. “It must be urgent if it couldn’t wait until morning.” 

She twisted her lips, then lifted her gaze to his face. “I… couldn’t sleep. I can’t sleep well these days. Can’t stop myself from thinking about… everything.”

He eyed her sympathetically, then ushered her close. “I understand,” he said. “I find it difficult to sleep, myself.” 

She slowly stepped closer to him, but when he patted the bed invitingly, she bit her lower lip and didn’t sit.

The implication of his gesture hit him, and he almost smacked himself at his mistake. “It’s all right, Aloy,” he said. “I won’t… You can have a seat. There is no pressure here. I promise I won’t bite.” He smiled reassuringly, then stood from the bed and reached for his silk dressing gown to cover his naked chest.

Then he stopped short as she grabbed his wrist. “What if I want you to?” she blurted.

Avad turned around to stare at her. Her chin was lifted defiantly, and a bloom of hope lit low in his belly at the steadiness and the undeniable _heat_ in her gaze. 

“What do you mean?” he rasped. He thought he knew, he sincerely hoped he knew, but he refused to assume anything, not where something this important - this _delicate_ \- was concerned.

She pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath. “I want you,” she said. “But… I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Stunned and delighted, Avad opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

Thankfully, Aloy hadn’t finished speaking. “It’s kind of a good thing,” she said. “I know what I’m doing everywhere else, with hunting and riding and all of that. I mean, even when I didn’t know, I still knew how to start, and then it was easy. But this, this is…” She released his wrist and waved vaguely toward him, then dropped her hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she finished. 

Finally Avad found some words. “That’s fine, Aloy,” he said. “That’s perfectly fine. Nobody does, at first. Don’t be-”

“I want you to show me what to do,” she interrupted. 

Avad swallowed hard. Her words, her bold but defiant demeanour, the bold stance of her body - all of it was stoking the heat in his belly, stoking the desire he’d been working so hard to keep in check ever since she’d first kissed him just a mere few nights ago. Now here she was, asking him to _show her_ , to be the one to unpeel this new and sensual world for her, and he was so overwhelmed by the sense of sheer good fortune that he could barely think.

She took a step toward him. “Everyone out there, everyone who’s come to fight for us… They need me to tell them what to do. They need someone to reassure them, or command them, or, or…” She exhaled sharply, then frowned at him. 

“You’re the only one who understands what that’s like,” she said. “You’re the only one who gets it. And Avad, I just…” She trailed off and ran a frustrated hand over her hair. 

Avad reached out and tipped up her chin. Her eyes flew up to his, and they stared at each other in silence, and he watched with rising excitement as the frustration in her face melted away. 

She took a step away from his hand. Then, in one brisk motion, she pulled her loose silk top over her head. 

Her long russet hair tumbled around the perfect curves of her small bare breasts, and a blazing roar of heat ran from his throat down to his groin. He watched breathlessly as she untied the laces on her loose pants, then let them drop to the floor in a puddle of silk. 

She stood in front of him, bare and guileless and bold, and she was as glorious as the rising sun in all its heated colour: gold-kissed skin, nipples as rosy as the horizon at dawn, flame-red curls that matched the flame-red curtain of her hair. 

“Avad, tell me what to do,” she said. “ _Show_ me what to do. Please.” 

His heart was thudding in his ears. His cock was pounding in his pants. He lifted his roguish gaze from her body back to her eyes. “It will be my honour, Aloy,” he said. “And my pleasure, as well.” He took her hand and tugged her toward him.

A grin lit her face as she stumbled close, and then she gasped as Avad pulled her flush against his body from breast to thigh. He slid his arm around her waist and cupped her bare bottom in his palm, and when Aloy gasped again, he kissed her parted lips. 

His kiss was firmer and more demanding than the kisses she’d given him, but Aloy responded in kind, her fingers grasping his shoulders as she twined her tongue with his. A heated moment later, Avad pulled away and gently licked her lower lip, then ever-so-gently nipped her lip with his teeth, and Aloy breathed a tiny whimper against his mouth. 

The sound was tantalizing, like the first sip of a fine bottle of wine, and Avad wanted more. With his hand on her bottom, he pulled her more firmly against his silk-clad thigh. 

She whimpered into his mouth and pressed herself against him, tilting her hips instinctively toward his thigh, and Avad broke their kiss to taste her neck instead. He drifted his nose along her jaw and down to the edge of her ear, and her breathy little sounds grew louder as he nipped the skin of her neck with his lips. 

He moved his mouth to her ear. “Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable,” he whispered. With his free hand, he brushed her belly with his knuckles. 

Her muscles jumped taut and tense beneath his hand, and she jerked her hips toward him. “Mm,” she moaned. 

Avad gently kissed her earlobe as he stroked the smoothness of her belly with the back of his hand, then higher beneath the swell of her breast, and when she arched her back and moaned again, he played her nipple between his fingers. 

She released a breathy little mewl. She was grinding against his thigh now, an instinctive rolling motion of her hips, and her precious heat against his leg was a marvelous prelude of the pleasure to come. He stroked her nipple until it was hard and pert, then slid his knuckles down along her belly and back toward the crimson curls between her legs. 

She keened, a high-pitched whine of want, and Avad slowly slid his fingers over her sex. “Aloy,” he breathed, “talk to me if you wish. Tell me if I do something that you like, or-” 

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she panted. “I don’t want to - to tell you. I want _you_ to… please, Avad, I just… I trust-” She stopped short and took a breath, and Avad paused the gentle ministrations of his fingers as she cupped his cheek. 

She gazed gravely into his eyes as she stroked his cheek. “I trust you,” she said.

Avad drank in the seriousness of her face. Somehow he knew this wasn’t something she had ever said to anyone else. 

He touched his forehead to hers. “I will be worthy of your trust. I promise,” he whispered. Gently, slowly, he slid two fingers through her curls to caress her lower lips. 

She clasped his neck, her expression twisting from solemn to satisfied as he took her heated slickness on his fingers. He carefully spread her slippery warmth, running his fingers along her plump flesh without dipping deeper, giving her time to grow accustomed to his touch. 

Soon she was bucking her hips, her needy panting pouring into his ear as she dug her nails into his neck. He banded his arm around her waist, supporting her as he slipped his fingers through her heat, and then he pressed his finger into her cleft and lightly stroked her swollen little nub.

Her nails bit sharply into his neck. “ _Ah!_ ” she gasped, and she arched into his chest. 

Avad ran the tip of his finger over her clit, gently teasing the tiny nub until she was rocking against his hand in a steady rhythm. Her fingers were tight on his shoulders, and her heavy breaths wafted warmly across his lips, and Avad greedily stared at the spot where his hand met her body. He still couldn’t quite believe that Aloy had chosen him, and he couldn’t quite see what she found so compelling about his company that she continued coming back. But against all odds, she was here in his embrace, rolling her lithe and golden hips against his hand and tilting her chin up to brush his lips with hers. 

Aloy was confident and bold, and she always knew what she wanted. If Avad was what she wanted now, then he would happily give his best to her.

He kissed her again as he caressed her tender little bud. Moments later, she nipped his tongue and came apart in his arms.

Her body was shaking, trembling with her climax as she whimpered into his mouth, and Avad tightened his arm around her waist to hold her up. Slowly he lessened the pressure of his finger between her legs, and he gentled his kiss until she peeled her lips away. 

She was breathing hard, and Avad realized that he was breathing hard too. Aloy pressed her palms against his chest, and he inhaled shakily as she slid her hands down toward his waistband. 

“What comes next?” she breathed. Her hips were moving still in a slow and sinuous roll, almost as though the rhythm she’d found against his fingers was begging still to be played, and Avad’s firmly-leashed desire writhed with growing impatience as he gazed into her eyes. She knew what came next; he could see it in her eyes and the way she coyly bit her lip. But Avad understood what she really wanted.

 _Show me what to do._ Aloy, the fierce huntress from the east, the woman who would be leading the charge against the Eclipse machines when they finally came: she wanted to be _told_. And Avad was the only one she trusted to tell her what to do. 

He slid his hands around her, stroking her from shoulder blades to the small of her back, then lifted her into his arms. He enjoyed her surprised little laugh as she wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his shoulders for support. 

“I will lay you on this bed,” he told her. “I will touch you again. And then… I will show you what comes next. Is that all right?”

She nodded furiously, and Avad lowered them both onto his bed. She loosened her legs from around his waist, and he stretched himself over her, one hand braced beside her head as his other hand began a careful exploration of her body. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Aloy watching him, her eyes fixed on his face as his fingers ran a reverent trail from collarbone to breast, bringing the pebbled peak of her nipple to attention before sliding down along her sternum and back between her legs. 

He stroked her folds with two fingers, and she mewled and spread her knees. Her body was an invitation, a feast for his eyes and his hands and his tongue, and the tightness of his cock pulsed with increasing insistence as he lingered over the sweetness of her heat on his hand.

He breathed slowly to control the lust surging in his gut. He smoothed his fingers over her slippery heat, and then, with one finger poised at her entrance, he lifted his eyes back to her face.

She eagerly nodded her head. Slowly, so slowly and carefully, Avad pressed his finger inside of her.

She drew a deep, excited breath, and her hips began to rise, lifting slowly in time with his finger he pushed into her depths. He watched her face, the way it twisted with pleasure as she took him all the way to the knuckle. The rising, the twisting, the wavelike slowness of her body - she was beautiful, so painfully beautiful, and Avad knew that this was a privilege: seeing her so loose and languid beneath his hands was a privilege that she wouldn’t bestow on anyone else. The look of her like this - relaxed and pleasured, uninhibited and free… Seeing her like this made his heart ache with happiness, even as the growling hunger of his lust began to roar for more. 

His finger was as deep as it could possibly be, and Aloy was whimpering and writhing beneath him, writhing as though she wanted more. So Avad curled his finger slightly.

She jerked and cried out, and Avad lowered himself to his elbow and stroked her hair. “Is that all right?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she gasped. So Avad curled his finger once more. 

She cried out and grabbed his hair, her fingers twisting tight in his unruly curls, and Avad continued to coax her with a come-hither motion until she was bucking against his hand. He pulled his finger free, then just as carefully as before, he slid two fingers into her slick tight heat. 

She mewled and arched her back, and Avad lowered his mouth and slicked his tongue across her nipple, and Aloy threw her head back into the pillows. “Please!” she cried. 

He lifted his mouth from her breast and kissed her hard, and her nails bit into his scalp as she twined her tongue with his. A moment later, he broke away with a gasp, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Are you ready for me to show you?” he rasped. 

“Yes,” she groaned. “Right now. Show me right now!” She spread her legs wider and lifted her hips, and Avad panted eagerly as he pulled his fingers free; they were slick with her, slick and shining from her fragrant warmth. In mere moments, that fragrant heat would be his to feel, and Avad had never been more grateful for the stringent regimen of stillseed brew that he’d been drinking since he was an adolescent. 

He couldn’t wait. His lust was driving higher, spurred by Aloy’s moisture on his hand and her widespread legs. With her unequivocal _yes_ ringing in his ears, he grasped the root of his manhood and slid himself along the length of her cleft. 

She curled her hips and grabbed his shoulders, and he gritted his teeth as he teased himself with her wetness, and then he was sinking into her, sinking into her warm and willing heat, and she was arching her back like her own Nora bow, and Avad was gasping, unable to hold back his own eagerness as her tight slick heat pressed around him. 

He sank into her all the way to the hilt and moaned helplessly against her neck. Her fingers were clenched against his arms, her breath hot against his ear and her whimpers spilling into the air. She was tight and sleek and so damned warm, and by the blazing Sun, Avad wanted more. 

He wanted more of this. He wanted more of _her_. The way she’d given herself to him… Her confident inexperience, the endearing irony of her demand for him to take control, the uninhibited stretch of her body on his bed and her boldly parted knees: it was all so perfectly Aloy, toughness and tenderness all rolled into a complicated kind of beauty, and Avad was lost. He was lost in her, overwhelmed by her, completely and utterly bowled over by her, and still he wanted _more._

He flexed his hips, and she cried out in ecstasy, and he took her lips in a kiss.

He moved slowly, grinding his hips against her groin until she began to move in turn. Sinuous and slow, they slid together as he kissed her luscious lips, and he savoured every slick press of her inner walls as his hips circled between her own.

Soon she was moving more quickly, her hips lifting from the bed as though to spur him forth, so Avad withdrew from her heat and thrust into her firmly. 

_Yes,_ he thought deliriously as her nails bit into his arms. 

She slammed her head back in the pillows. “Yes,” she gasped, and Avad pumped into her again and again in a steady rolling flow until she was bucking up toward him.

He listened carefully to her sounds, letting them bathe his brain in bliss as he laid his loving on her body. Her parted lips released a symphony of pleasured gasps, but soon she was whimpering, a pleading little sound like a puppy wanting more. Avad noticed the restless twisting of her hips, and when she tried to lift one leg over his hip, her swiftly dipped his arm low and lifted her knee over his arm, spreading her wider than before.

“All-Mother’s mercy,” she swore, then slammed her hand over her mouth to muffle her piercing cry. 

Avad pumped into her, feeling positively feverish with his own rising pleasure. “I hope that means something good?” he panted. 

She nodded her head, eyes squeezed tight shut. “Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, it’s good, it’s - _ah!_ ” 

He sank into her again, over and over in a spinning cycle of swiftly rising rapture, reaching as deep as he could inside her silken depths until the pulsing of pleasure felt like it was pressing behind his eyes. He thrust into her again, then once more, and then the building storm of his climax burst over him, spilling down his throat and through his limbs until he was shuddering. 

Her hand rose up to cup his cheek, and he pressed his lips to her palm, muffling his whimpers of bliss against her skin. When his rapture finally began to wane, he pried open his eyelids.

She was watching him fondly, her eyebrows lifted and her lips curled in a soft smile, and a fresh flush of wellbeing warmed his skin. The fondness in her face was so clear, as clear as the lucid lightness of her green-and-gold eyes, and _this_ , this tender look on her face… 

This, to Avad, was joy. More than the sex, more than the offering of her body, this clear-cut affection in her eyes was what made his heart swell with happiness.

He slowly released her upraised leg, then gently kissed her lips as he slid off of her body. He curled on his side beside her and gently stroked her belly. “Do you feel all right?” he murmured. 

She smiled, then reached up and twirled her finger in a sweaty curl of his hair. “Yeah,” she said. “I feel…” She trailed off, then laughed softly. “I can feel muscles I didn’t know I had. I think I might be sore tomorrow.” 

Avad nodded, then gently nuzzled her cheek. “You might be. A hot bath might help. I can run one for you in the morning, if you like.” He sat up beside her, then took a swath of the bedsheets in his hand and began to solicitously mop her sticky inner thighs. 

She was silent for a time, then her body began to shake. Alarmed, Avad looked up at her face.

She was laughing, snickering silently into her hands, and Avad relaxed with relief as leaned on his elbow beside her. “What is funny?” 

She grinned at him, a more mischievous expression than he’d ever seen on her face. “ _This_ is the royal treatment,” she said, then she clapped her hands over her mouth again.

Avad smiled slowly at her gleeful face. Seeing her laugh like this, such easy laughter over such a _silly_ joke, looking so carefree as though they had nothing to fear… 

By the Sun’s holy rays, he loved her. There was no question of it in his mind. 

He pulled her hands away from her mouth and kissed her. She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, and he savoured the warm scent of her sweat and the warm press of her lips until she broke away with a grin.

Aloy laughed and laughed, laughter that sparkled in his heart like a handful of sun and jewels, and soon Avad was laughing with her. 

This pure moment of peace was temporary, and he knew it. The battle of HADES would soon be upon them, and no number of Sun-Priests or prayers could tell them what the future would bring. 

But for now, poised over the naked body of his laughing Nora lover, Avad would gladly savour this moment of joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: How about that little nod to contraception there, hey? Male contraception, no less! Avad is such a progressive guy <3 LOL!


	5. Come To Roost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW smut. Also a brief veiled reference to Nil, if anyone can spot it, [BECAUSE I AM A PIECE OF TRASH.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/808932)

The night was early still, but the sky over Meridian was already dark. 

The remains of the Battle of HADES were strewn across the entirety of Meridian, from the rubble-cluttered streets to the sky. Clouds of smoke hung over the city and the surrounding jungle, clotting the air and retaining the lingering stench of blood and burning metal. Avad stared blankly at the blackened sky as his advisors spoke. 

“...and with the barracks destroyed, the soldiers will need emergency refuge tonight, and for the next few weeks at least,” Vanasha was saying. “We should send messengers to the settlements requesting accommodations and other aid.” 

Avad tore his eyes away from the sky. “Absolutely,” he said. “Settle everyone as close to the east as possible, away from the greatest sites of damage. I suspect the Vanguard are still assessing the losses there?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Erend said. 

Avad nodded, then turned back to Vanasha. “Bring any remaining villagers in,” he said. “First priority to anyone injured, no matter their tribe. If there is insufficient room in the city, bring them to the palace.” He looked at Marad. “Tell the staff to prepare for a potential influx of visitors. Gather all the healers you can - anyone who is not too exhausted to work.”

Marad nodded briskly, then strode away as Avad spoke to Vanasha and Erend again. “We will send messengers to the settlements tomorrow,” he said. “The most able-bodied of our people may have to go as far as Lone Light. Let everyone have a decent night’s rest here in the city.” 

Vanasha tutted. “How very practical, Your Radiance,” she said. “I think the people might prefer a party over a good night’s sleep, don’t you?” She bumped Erend playfully with her hip. 

“Ahh, they could probably use a drink,” Erend agreed. “I know I could. Too bad Scrappersap’s not higher on the priority list right now.” 

Avad smiled at them. He could see the fatigue beneath Vanasha’s cheeky smile, and Erend’s friendly voice was gravelly and rough from calling out commands, and yet they both still kept their humour. 

Avad was grateful for their light-hearted banter. He was grateful for _them_. The battle had been horrific: the guns, the explosions, the hair-raising metallic screeches, and the machines… By the Sun, the _machines_. Machines the likes of which he had never imagined, not even with Aloy’s detailed warnings. 

_Aloy_. For the millionth time since the battle had ended, he wondered where she was. He’d spotted her from afar at the very end of the battle, standing with Erend and her Nora friend Varl with her flame-red hair flickering in the wind, but that was hours ago. 

A fresh ripple of anxiety ran down his spine, but he forced himself not to show it. He gave Vanasha’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Food and rest first,” he said firmly. “Celebrations will have to wait, I’m afraid.” 

She gave a musical little sigh. “If you insist. You’re the boss,” she said, then winked at him and sauntered away.

He shook his head fondly at her departure, then turned to Erend. “Your men,” he said. “Are they reasonably well, all things considered?”

Erend shrugged sadly. “I lost a few guys. Good guys, too. We’ll drink to them tonight. But it could have been worse.” He blew out a heavy breath. “If Aloy hadn’t been there… Fire and spit, she’s gotten even tougher since we first met her, if you can imagine that.”

A memory flashed unbidden across Avad’s mind: Aloy curled up on his bed, her toughness chipped away by sleep, her hair splayed across his pillow and her limbs soft in repose. 

Worry and longing swelled in his throat, and he swallowed them down. “Yes,” he said. “She is… very tough. Erend, have you seen her? Since the battle ended? Was she all right?”

“Oh yeah,” Erend scoffed. “A little bruised and banged up, and her hands looked a little zapped, you know, like that other time she came here. But she looked all right.” He rubbed a hand over his bristly hair. “She went off with that Varl guy. Nice kid. Probably to check on his mom.” 

Avad raised his eyebrows. “His mother?”

“Yeah,” Erend said. “His mom is the Nora’s War-Chief. Kinda like their general, I think.” Erend tilted his head thoughtfully. “I wonder if all Nora ladies are tough as bolts? They’ve got more in common with Oseram women than they think.” 

_She’s with the other Nora,_ Avad mused. He squeezed Erend’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. For everything,” he said seriously. “You should go and rest.” 

Erend clapped Avad heartily on the shoulder. “You should too. You look about ready to crack.”

Avad huffed out a small laugh. “I assure you, I am fine. There is much still to do. But I thank you for your concern.” 

Erend shrugged affably, then started to wander away. “Try to relax at some point tonight, huh? Even Sun-Kings have to sleep.” 

Avad smiled faintly in response, then ushered over a harried-looking palace messenger. “Have someone find the Nora,” he said quietly. “Make it clear that they are welcome in the city as well. _Everyone_ is welcome.” 

He took a breath, then hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask the messenger to collect news of Aloy - _Is she all right? Is she staying with the Nora tonight? Will she be returning to the Nora lands with her people? Will she come speak to me before she goes?_ \- but he stopped himself before the questions could leave his lips. Aloy’s priorities were her own, and he had no right to request her presence again, not after everything she’d done for Meridian. 

The messenger was eyeing him expectantly. He cleared his throat. “That’s all, thank you. Just… let them know.”

The messenger nodded and scurried away. Alone for the first time that day, Avad leaned his elbows heavily on the railing and looked up at the sky once more. 

The smoke was thinner over the eastern skies, its grey taint bleeding into the bruised purple of the early night sky. As Avad silently studied the nebulous grey haze, he thought - yet again - of Aloy.

She’d joined him in his room for the past three nights. She’d come to the balcony each night, perching briefly on the ledge before slipping inside. She left via the balcony each morning before Marad arrived for the morning report. During the day, they worked together with perfect professional decorum. Aloy’s lovely face was as stern as ever, and Avad treated her with a polite respect. But at night, when she returned to his window - by the blazing Sun, when she returned… 

When she returned each night, they wasted no time with words. Her clothes trickled in a trail from the window to his bed, and they moved together in a flux of heat and vigour. Aloy wrapped him in her strong and twining limbs, sinking tendrils into his heart like roots pressing into soft soil. During these three stunning nights, Avad had felt more at peace than he had in years. 

Some might call it sneaking. Some might call it a clandestine affair, a shameful secret that the Sun-King was trying to hide. Years ago, if Avad had known this was what he would be doing with a woman he loved, he might have been ashamed of his own behaviour. But with Aloy, it did not feel like sneaking. With Aloy, it felt anything but tawdry. 

Aloy was comfortable with _him_. He was comfortable with _her_. And without even asking, without them even talking about it, Avad knew this is what they both needed this to be: two people together, sharing something warm and sensitive and pure that was no one else’s business to see. Aloy coming to him of her own free will, giving him something that he would never have dared to ask or even hope: it was all Avad had ever wanted in the first place. To share in some part of her secret soul, and to know she was cherishing a piece of his in return. 

But now her battle was done. She had killed the Terror of the Sun and defeated her machine-mind nemesis, and it seemed that she’d found the answers she’d sought when she’d been in the Sacred Lands. Aloy hadn’t shown her face in hours, and now Avad wondered if perhaps he’d seen her flame-haired silhouette in his window for the last time. 

A soft patter of footsteps broke him from his melancholy thoughts. “Your Radiance,” the messenger said, “Lady Vanasha requests your advice in the eastern meeting room. It concerns the supplementary food stores in the outer estates.”

Avad turned to the messenger with a small smile. “I will be right there. Thank you,” he said. 

The messenger nodded and hurried away, and Avad cast one last look at the grey and empty sky before entering the palace.

********************

The full darkness of night had fallen by the time Avad trudged back to his private quarters. He managed a lazy nod to his guards, then slipped into his quarters and closed the door. 

He didn’t bother to light a lamp. He dropped his crown on the ground, then blindly shuffled over to the bed and flopped face-first onto the mattress, and the impact pushed a gusty breath from his lungs. Avad inhaled slowly, but the air he breathed was like a punch to the gut.

He could smell her in the sheets. It was a sweetness like the herbal scent of her hair, laced with the lingering salt of their sex. With an aching heart, Avad pressed his cheek to the sheets and simply breathed. 

“Avad?”

His eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright and scrabbled for the bedside lamp, then squinted toward the balcony as the warm yellow light flickered to life. 

Aloy was seated on the floor by the balcony, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms curled protectively around them. Avad shot off of the bed, and an instant later, he was crouching by her side. 

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his voice tight with fear. He touched her cheek, her bloodstained arms, taking in the streaks of oil and mud that slashed across her armour. “Aloy, are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” she said. Then, in a stronger voice, she said, “I’m fine, Avad, really. I just…” 

He held his breath, pulse pounding as he waited for her to speak again. But when she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall, Avad spoke instead. 

“How long have you been here?” he said.

“Maybe… an hour? Maybe more,” she mumbled. “I just wanted some quiet.” She opened her eyes and shot him a tiny smile. “I thought you could help me with that.” 

Her tone was tinted with humour, and Avad finally smiled. “I catch your meaning,” he murmured. “Say no more.” He carefully settled himself on the floor beside her. 

They sat together in silence for some time. With every easy breath, Avad felt more loose, as though something tight and knotted in his chest was slowly unravelling. 

Aloy sighed, then rested her head on his shoulder. It was such a small thing, a small and innocent search for comfort, or so it would seem. 

For Aloy - stern, self-contained Aloy - this simple little gesture made something bloom inside his chest, like the tightened bud of a flower unfolding, thirsty and open for the sun.

She nestled her ear against his shoulder, and Avad smiled to himself. Then, on impulse, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. 

A whiff of her hair wafted into his nose, and he instinctively held his breath. Aloy released a tired little chuckle. “Don’t kiss me. I smell like blood,” she said. 

“No,” Avad said, very unconvincingly. “You smell like…”

She was right. She reeked of blood and sweat and charred wood. Avad searched desperately for a diplomatic response. “You’ve been fighting hard,” he finally said. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s okay, Avad, I know I smell like blood,” she said. “A… friend of sorts said as much during the battle.” She huffed in amusement and lifted her head from his shoulder, then raised her arms in a stretch. 

“Come have a bath,” Avad invited. “Then you can sleep. You can sleep as long as you want.” Aloy could stay here as long as she liked. He would happily go to Marad for their usual dawn report so she could sleep in. His energy fully restored, he rose to his feet and offered her a hand.

She looked up at him, and her tiny smile broadened a bit. “How are you not exhausted?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure,” he replied honestly. “But I’ll enjoy it while I can. Come, Aloy. Let me offer you the full royal treatment.” He smiled.

She burst out a little bark of laughter, and Avad’s heart flip-flopped at the sound. “All right,” she said, and she allowed him to help her to her feet. 

Avad strode over to the large rectangular tub, leaving Aloy to trail behind him. He began to fill the bath, and behind him, he heard the clanking sound of her armour coming off. 

A few minutes later, Aloy silently stepped up beside him, bare-skinned and bare-footed. She shot him a tiny smile as she stepped into the steaming water, and Avad tried not to stare at the purpling bruises sprinkled across her body or the reddened marks near her neck and wrists where her armour must have chafed. 

She released a long exhale as she sank into the hot water. “All-Mother’s mercy,” she said. “This is amazing.” Without another word, she submerged herself completely in the tub.

Avad smiled and sat beside the tub. A moment later, Aloy’s soaking head emerged from the water with a little splash. She took a deep and luxurious breath as she smoothed her hands ver her hair. 

“You have never had a bath like this,” he said; it wasn’t a question. He had assumed she’d used the bath at least once while staying in the guest rooms of the palace, but her uninhibited smile made it quite clear that she had not. 

She shook her head, then dunked herself once more before speaking. “I’m used to washing in rivers and streams. Rost and I didn’t need a bath indoors. Neither do you Carja, quite frankly,” she added with a teasing little smirk. “If I can wash up outside with snow on the ground, your people can bathe outside in the Sundom.” 

He chuckled, feeling more and more relaxed at how relaxed _she_ seemed to be. If Aloy could be calm after a terrible day like today, then perhaps Avad could too. 

“You overestimate our constitution for the cold,” he said. “We Carja are many things, but tolerant of the cold is… not one of them.” 

She hummed a wry acknowledgement. Her eyes were closed now, her head reclined back against the edge of the tub, and Avad simply admired her damp but happy face. 

He rested his elbow on the edge of the tub and laid his cheek on his arm. They sat together quietly, and for the first time that day, Avad truly allowed his mind to drift. 

Tonight was a temporary reprieve. When the sun rose in just a few short hours, the aftermath of this battle would still be there. His people would still be in need, and his city would still need rebuilding. But for now, for this short and precious time, he would let his concerns melt away, leaching from his mind like blood in bathwater.

_Speaking of bathwater…_ It was starting to take on a distinctly dirty tinge from Aloy’s grubby skin. He lifted his dreamy gaze to her face, ready to ask if she wanted a fresh tub for washing, then abruptly stopped.

Her eyes were still closed, but the contentment was gone from her face, faded to an expression both somber and sad. As Avad watched with growing concern, she lifted one hand and covered her eyes. 

“Aloy?” he said softly. “Is something… Are you all right?”

She nodded, eyes still closed. “Yeah,” she said gruffly, then cleared her throat. “I’m just tired.” Then her expression twisted, and she turned her face away. 

A pang of alarm jolted through his chest. He was desperate to ask what was wrong, to draw her pain away through talking in the same way that she’d helped to draw him free of his. But if Avad had learned anything about Aloy in the short time of their intimacy, it was that she would speak if and when she was ready. 

Her face was hidden in her hand, and she was utterly still. Then she sniffled quietly. 

Avad’s heart thudded in his throat. It was swelling there, a choking lump of sympathy, and perhaps Aloy didn’t want to talk, but that didn’t mean Avad couldn’t act. 

He shifted onto his knees, then picked up a small copper pot beside the tub. He dipped the pot carefully into the tub, filling it with water, then carefully reached over and ran his hand over the damp crown of Aloy’s head. 

She made a tiny sound, a thin and tiny sound in her throat, and Avad swallowed hard to control the burning at the back of his own throat. He carefully poured the warm water over her hair, using his hand to sluice the flow away from her face. 

Her fingers clenched against her cheek, and her shoulders jerked slightly. Avad continued to dip and pour the water until her hair was thoroughly wet, and all the while, she hid her face while her shoulders shook with sorrow.

When her body grew still, Avad placed the copper pot on the ground, then lifted a glass bottle of cleansing gel. He poured a small amount into his hands, then carefully ran his palms along her temples.

She released a shaky breath, then tilted her head forward as Avad drew his fingertips along the smooth curve of her scalp. His hands were awkward at first, catching in her braids and the careful twists of hair along her hairline, and he hoped she would forgive him for this; he’d never washed anyone’s hair but his own. He was careful as he lathered her hair, adding a bit more gel to thoroughly cleanse the copious russet mass from root to tip, squeezing her braids gently to clean them without mussing them up. 

Aloy, meanwhile, submitted to his clumsy ministrations in perfect silence. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even, and when he lifted his hands away to rinse her hair, she released a heavy sigh. 

He glanced at her as he lifted the copper pot. “Have I done something wrong?” he murmured. 

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “That was… I haven’t… no one’s done this since I was a kid. I don’t… I don’t really remember.” Then she dipped her head beneath the surface of the water again. 

Avad watched slightly wistfully as she rinsed her hair underwater, then rose back to the surface. “If I have done a poor job, I apologize,” he said. “It’s a task usually left for nursemaids, I know. Or among the Nora, I suppose it is the mothers…?”

He trailed off, genuinely curious about the cultural difference, but Aloy’s face abruptly crumpled. 

Avad berated himself as she covered her eyes again. _Stupid, foolish idiot,_ he thought. Aloy had told him she had no family aside from Rost, that she’d grown up isolated from her tribe, and here he was, making such a terrible gaffe… 

He rose to his feet. Then, before he could stop to think twice, he was pulling off his clothes. 

He set one foot into the tub, and Aloy tensed at first, then slid forward in the tub as he stepped in behind her. He sank into the water and slid his arms firmly around her waist. 

She buried her face in both hands and sobbed, and Avad pulled her back against his chest. He smoothed one hand tenderly along the side of her head, then pressed his cheek to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry, Aloy.”

She shook her head and drew another gasping sob, and Avad simply held her as she cried, wrapping her tightly in his arms as the bathwater cooled, wishing he could wash away her sorrow as easily as he’d washed the dirt from her hair. 

Eventually she grew still again, and Avad watched as a wave of goosebumps rippled across her skin. He carefully rubbed his palms along her arms. “Let me refresh the water,” he offered. “I’ll refill it with hot-”

“No,” she said. “It’s fine. I don’t need another… this water is fine. I’ll just quickly finish up…” She shifted slightly in his arms.

Her tone was businesslike and brisk. Worried that he was overstepping his welcome, Avad reluctantly released her and stepped out of the bath. He dried himself briskly while fetching a fresh towel for her from the cupboard, and by the time he returned to her, she was rising to her feet and stepping out of the tub. 

She glanced at him briefly as he handed her the towel. “Thanks,” she murmured. 

Her expression was flat and closed. Avad took a cautious step away from her, then hung his towel and padded back to the comfort of his bed.

He slid under the sheets with a quiet sigh, then looked over at Aloy once more. She was wringing the water from her hair, but her hands went still as she met his gaze. 

He studied her stern expression with a pang of tenderness. “Join me?” he said. 

Her expression softened. She slowly approached the bed and slid under the covers, and to Avad’s happy surprise, she curled up on her side facing him. 

He lay on his side to face her, resting his cheek on his arm in an unconscious mirroring of her pose. In the warm yellow light of his bedside lamp, her freckled skin was so fresh and so deceptively young, betraying nothing of the heaviness that sat behind her hazel eyes. 

“I’m glad that you’re here,” he told her quietly. “I wasn’t sure… I didn’t want to assume that you would return.”

A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lips, but her eyes remained sad. They gazed at each other in silence, and Avad couldn’t quite decide if the weight in his chest was good or bad.

Finally she spoke. “Avad, do you think… Is it strange to miss someone you’ve never met?” 

He blinked, slightly thrown off by the unexpected question. Fortunately, it was a question he had a ready answer for.

“No,” he said. “In fact, I feel that way about my mother. She died when I was an infant. I never knew her, but I still miss her.”

Aloy’s eyebrows rose. “You never knew her? But… you told me stories about her.”

“Secondhand stories, I’m afraid,” he said. “Stories from Kadaman and my father, and Marad as well. They told me what she was like.” He sighed quietly. “She sounded… very lovely. Not as no-nonsense as your Rost,” he smiled, “but lovely nonetheless.” 

A smile flashed across her face, quick as a falling star. Then her expression sobered once more. “I didn’t realize,” she whispered. “I thought…” 

She trailed off, and Avad shrugged. “I suppose I’ve built a memory of her from _their_ memories,” he explained. “Maybe that’s a good thing, as my father and brother are both gone. Something of her can be carried with me instead. Beyond what the history tomes will tell, of course.” He shrugged once more. “So. To answer your question… no, I don’t think it’s strange at all.”

Aloy pursed her lips. She looked sadder than ever. “You never knew your mother either,” she said very quietly, almost as though she was talking to herself. 

“No, I didn’t,” he murmured. Finally her words gave him a clue as to what she was thinking about: something about her own late mother, it seemed. 

He waited quietly for her to speak again, his curiosity growing with every passing silent moment. Then a tear slipped down her cheek. 

Avad moved his hand. It was an instinctive lifting, an impulsive wish to brush her sadness away, but before he could touch her, she’d wiped the tear from her face. 

She swallowed hard, then met his gaze again. “Avad…” 

His breath caught in his throat. Her eyelashes shone with a shimmer of sadness, but her eyes were warm and weighted, and Avad bit his lip as he waited for her to speak. 

She gazed intently at him for a heartbeat - two heartbeats - half a dozen heartbeats - and then she exhaled softly.

She slid her hand across his bicep to curl beneath his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He slowly released his breath. “You’re welcome,” he said. 

She gently squeezed his arm, then closed her eyes, and in the space of moments, she was fast asleep.

Carefully and slowly, without disturbing her, Avad reached behind himself and turned off the bedside lamp. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he quietly studied Aloy’s dear and sleeping face. 

It wasn’t until he was half-asleep himself that he realized something odd: he didn’t know what she’d been thanking him for.

***********************

Flames flickered in the sky. 

No, no, the flames had been extinguished. For the most part, at least. The city guard had been attending to that - hadn’t they?

Hadn’t they?

But the flames… they were green, green like blaze, like the rigged stockpile of blaze that Erend and Aloy had found in that warehouse by the docks -

Aloy. _Aloy._ Was she all right? Had she… had she come back from the battle? 

Fear. Worry. They rushed in, taking over his grief for the crumpled body on the ground. He took a step away, dropping his bloodied sword beside his bloodied father, and then he was running, running through the palace, past the broken walls and the twisted golden grates, _Aloy, where in the Sun was Aloy -_

“Hey,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

_Where?_ He couldn't see her. He couldn’t see anything. But suddenly he could feel. 

He felt… softness. Soft and small, pressing on his cheek. Lips…?

Softness moving along his cheek, his cheekbone, his temple. Lips, yes, it was… lips.

Avad opened his eyes. It was dark still, too dark to see, but he could sense her movement. 

She was shifting close, her knee brushing his, her hand on his bare shoulder. “It’s okay, Avad. You were dreaming,” she whispered. 

He could feel her hand. He could smell her warm and herbal hair. “I was scared,” he mumbled.

Her hand was in his hair, pulling gently through his tangled curls. “Why?”

_I thought you had left,_ he thought, but he bit his cheek before the words could escape the confines of his somnolent mind. Avad might be half-asleep still, but he was awake enough to know he couldn’t say that. 

It wasn’t fair to hope she would stay. It was barely fair to even think. Aloy was a traveller, a wanderer and a warrior, an explorer with a curious heart and a sharp and agile mind. She might have come from the Sacred Lands, but she had gone places that Avad could only dream. 

Travelling was what Aloy did. It was who she was, and Avad would never want to change that.

He breathed through his longing, then spoke a different idea instead, one that was far less loaded. “I love you,” he told her.

Her fingers went still, and he could feel her holding her breath. She released it slowly, like a warm breeze across his cheek and lips. 

Her palm came to rest on his jaw, a soft and heated weight. She was silent, her breathing soft and slow, a soothing rhythm that was as lulling as low tide. 

Avad closed his heavy eyelids. “I mean nothing by it,” he said muzzily. “There is no obligation, I assure you. I just... wanted you to know.” 

Aloy was quiet. Her hand on his cheek was still, and her gentle tidal breaths were as calming as her presence in his bed, and Avad felt himself drifting once again.

Then her fingers moved, stroking his cheek, then stroking his neck. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” she whispered. 

Avad opened his eyes and looked at her. The longer he looked, the more her silhouette came to life, and Avad studied her somber face with a slowly aching heart.

“No one?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “No,” she said. Then she shifted closer. 

Her knee slipped between his thighs. Her face was closer now, her nose brushing his, and then her lips were pressing against his own.

Aloy kissed him sweetly, coaxing his mouth open and pressing herself against the length of his naked body as her arm slid around his waist, and Avad gathered her close, sliding his leg over hers and slipping his fingers into her still-damp hair. 

She licked his lip, a delicate tracing with the tip of her tongue. She slowly flexed her hip against his groin, her callused palms sliding up along his back, and Avad breathed against her lips. It was still too dark to fully see, too dark to take in more than shadows on the shape of her shoulders and the shell of her ear, but he didn’t need to see, because he felt her.

Avad felt her. He felt the press of her knee as it slid higher between his thighs, the feel of her fingertips as they pressed more firmly into his skin. He tasted her, tasted the sleep and the sweetness of mint on her tongue. She pushed her hip against him, a tender press against the swelling of his groin, and Avad drew a gasp, inhaling her scent and taking back the breath she’d stolen from his lungs. 

And then she was looming over him, straddling him as she rolled him onto his back. Her lips were firm and demanding, kissing him hard as she settled herself across his lap. Her breasts were pressed to his chest and her belly was flush to his, and Avad was sinking, sinking simultaneously into the softness of his mattress and the satin of her skin. 

He slid his hands along her thighs, his thumbs playing across the angles of her hips. Then his hands were rising in tandem with her hips as she lifted herself and smoothed her slick cleft along the rod of his manhood. 

He moaned softly, lifting his hips for more. “Aloy, please,” he begged. 

She slid herself across his length again, a slow stroke of heat across his cock. “Okay,” she breathed, and then she took him deep. 

Her first stroke was - by the Sun’s glory, it was perfect. She was smooth and swift and sleek - so sleek, her perfect fragrant heat - and Avad pressed his hips higher with a desperate surge of want. Her hands were on his abdomen, bracing herself to lift and lower, and Avad slid his hands up along her arms, savouring the shifting muscle of her biceps as she rolled and flexed on top of him. 

His eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, and he could finally see her half-shadowed face as her lips parted in pleasure. She was whimpering with every wavelike roll of her hips, a soft and breathy sound that contrasted so dearly with her usual commanding tones, and hearing her like this, seeing her like this: this was a rare and treasured sight, a treat she’d bestowed on nobody else but him, and Avad counted his every honeyed blessing even as her smoothly riding body pulled his pleasure higher and closer to the surface of his skin. 

He lifted one of her hands from his belly, lacing his fingers with hers as his other hand reached between her legs. He stroked the curls between her legs with his knuckles, and immediately her breathing sharpened. 

She clenched her fingers with his, and Avad pressed his knuckle more firmly against her hidden little bud, pressing through her curls until she keened.

“Avad,” she gasped, and she pressed her groin more firmly against his knuckles.

He gently stroked her, a slow and careful movement until she was curling her hips toward his hand. “Tell me when,” he murmured. 

She nodded eagerly, her eyes squeezed shut as she tilted her hips toward him. Her hand was tight in his, squeezing harder as the movements of her hips grew jerky and her breathing grew rough, and Avad’s own breathing was shallow and bated as he watched her, as he listened, as he waited with his eager cock inside her slick warmth - 

She released a guttural cry and bit his wrist. Avad gasped in shock and delight as she lifted herself and slammed her hips hard onto his cock, and then she was riding him hard, her face still twisted with rapture, still holding his hand with her palm pushing against his own for leverage as she ground her hips against him in a hard and steady roll. 

He slid his free hand up her arm and pulled at her shoulder. “Come close to me,” he pleaded.

Aloy opened her eyes and smiled. And then she was kissing him again, her hands clasping his neck as she continued to ride him hard. She was so warm, the skin of her back sticky beneath his arms as he wrapped them around her, and she was _here_. 

Aloy was here. When the war was said and done, she’d flown through his window, dropping her armour and her weapons and her inhibitions, and she’d joined him in his bed. And _this_ \- her presence, the sheer overwhelming presence of her: this was the sweetest thing about this night.

He clutched her tight and fed himself into her ravenous heat, his heart beating a joyful tattoo that perfectly matched the bump-and-slide of their bodies. He could hear his own pleasure, his own broken whimpers as they fell against her heated lips, and then her tongue was in his mouth, silencing him as he cried his climax against her tongue. His whole body was trembling from the strength of it, and still he hugged her hard, his arms tight around her hot and panting form, holding her close and keeping her here while he still had the chance. 

Her face was tucked against his neck. He could feel the sweat collecting between their skin, cooling slightly with her every slow breath, but he closed his eyes and didn’t move, savouring the feeling of their shared heat as though to keep it for later. 

They lay together for some time, breathing and holding each other tight. Then Aloy released a slow sigh. “I have to go somewhere,” she said softly. “Maybe not tomorrow, but… soon.”

Avad tried not to be disappointed; he’d known this would happen, after all. He idly ran his fingers through her hair. “Where will you go?” he asked. 

Then he bit his lip. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to tell him.

To his relief, she replied. “To the place where someone died,” she said. “Someone really important to me that I… that I never met.” She fell quiet, then lifted herself onto her elbow. 

Avad studied her expression as she took a deep breath: it was sad but warm, like a fond sort of melancholy. “I’ll tell you about it when I come back,” she said. 

_When I come back._ The way she said it, like it was understood that she _would_ come back - like it was that easy and casual, and like it didn’t shake the earth beneath his feet every time she returned…

He was so happy that he couldn’t speak. He only realized that he’d been dumbly silent when her expression grew wary. “If - if you want me to come back, I mean,” she mumbled.

He reached up and cradled her neck. Truly, in the most selfish corner of his heart, there was nothing he wanted more. “You are always welcome here,” he told her.

She smiled, and his tender heart heated with the return of her humour. “You always say that,” she teased.

“I always mean it,” he insisted. He stroked her jaw with his thumb until her expression grew sober once more. “I meant what I said, Aloy,” he whispered. “I love you. I will always leave the balcony open for you.” 

She closed her eyes and turned her cheek into his palm. Her fingers rose to grasp his wrist, and a drop of warmth trickled along the length of his hand. 

He carefully brushed the tear away. When she turned to face him again, her smiling eyes were brilliant, shining in the darkness with the sharpness of a crescent moon. 

They gazed at each other in silence, a silence both warm and serene, and a slow but brilliant smile grew across her face until she was grinning. She kissed his palm, then leaned over him and kissed his lips, and Avad held her close again, enfolding her in his embrace.

He knew that Aloy would leave. Maybe she would leave in the morning, or maybe she would leave in a week. She would slip on her armour and her weapons and the shield of her stern visage, and she would fly away on her sandaled feet. 

Avad would remain here. He was rooted in Meridian, standing tall with his arms reaching out to the edges of his lands, supporting and safeguarding and sheltering those in need. 

But Aloy would come back. She held a piece of him now, a small and tender slice to call her very own, and Avad knew that it would call her back. He knew it like he knew her skin. He felt it in her kiss, and he saw it in her tender eyes. She didn’t need to say it, for the fondness in her face and the stroke of her gentle hands told him everything he needed to know. 

Aloy would always fly away. But she would always return, landing on his balcony and gliding into his open arms, and that was enough. 

For Avad, that was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [Pikapeppa on Tumblr,](https://pikapeppa.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come hang out - but I'm mostly Dragon Age trash these days. xoxo


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